


30 Days of Gaston/Prunelle

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée), Spirou et Fantasio
Genre: Cats, M/M, Vampires, side fanta/spirou in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 30,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 30 Day OTP challenge I did few years ago with Gaston/Prunelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

”Come on, Prunelle! You gotta see it!”

 

The editor would have protested, but all the perfectly rational reasons not to drop everything he was doing seemed to disappear from his mind when Gaston took his hand to pull him along to see his latest project.

 

”A completely new and ecological communication-system! I got the idea from how the waterpipes transfer sound so that when Bertje listens to radio in his room I can hear it from my radiator. I linked all the rooms together with a network of pipes! You'll just call, and whoever needs to get your message hears it.”

 

He gestured at the series of tubes on the walls with his one hand, the other one still holding Prunelle's.

 

Who was wondering why he was really noticing this sort of behaviour now. But maybe he was holding his hand a bit more then really necessary?

The editor tried to push it from his mind. ”Gaston, that cannot possibly work.”

 

He reached to listen. ”There's already a tinny cacophony of sound. Can you imagine what it would be like if everyone was yelling into-”

Without warning, his ear was sucked in by the tube. ”AAARGH!”

 

”Oh, that tends to happen when someone opens the main door.” Gaston informed him. He helped Prunelle pull his head free. ”It's all about the differences in pressure, no biggie.”

 

”Rogntudj-”

He was interrupted by Gaston lifting his hand to his ear, gently touching it.

”It's fine. See?”

 

Prunelle nodded, stunned and not even sure why.

Maybe Gaston noticed that, or was surprised by his own behaviour, because he blushed slightly and withdrew his hand quickly.

 

He tried to pull his other hand back too, but instinctively, Prunelle tightened his grip.

The younger man certainly looked surprised at that.

 

”It's fine,” Prunelle told him, not sure what he meant exactly.

 

But the small smile Gaston gave him reassured him that at least holding hands a bit more than necessary was fine sometimes.

 


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

Eventually the soft snore let Prunelle know Gaston had fallen asleep. Asleep next to the editor.

Well, more like _on_ him.

It _was_ sort of nice.

And surreal.

How had this ever happened?

Gaston mumbled in his sleep and buried his face in Prunelle's sweater.

His arm started to fall asleep, and that was certainly uncomfortable. Prunelle decided to focus on that.

This didn't yet mean anything. They hadn't kissed, no one had said 'I love you', nothing that couldn't be interpreted as non-sexual had happened.

Just two people who had been getting closer lately and could be described as 'friends' sitting together, and watching a movie, which naturally just might lead to the other one falling asleep next to the other.

This close, he could clearly tell what the younger man smelled like. Some chemical smells, something a bit burnt, there was something that resembled the smell of wool.

It wasn't unpleasant.

Prunelle tried to focus on everything that annoyed him about Gaston. All the things that would logically make him less attracted to him.

Somehow the best he could come up with was how he was drooling on his sweater.

Didn't _really_ make him want to kiss him less.

He wasn't going to, of course. Not when he was asleep or half-awake.

And he didn't want to wake the younger man. Not yet, anyway.

But it was getting late, and it was too soon to ask Gaston to stay the night. But they'd have to do this again some time.

“Gaston.”

”Hmm...”

He made an effort to sound far gentler than usual when saying this. ”Gaston, time to wake up.”

Less like an order, and more like a suggestion.

The look in his brown eyes was confused at first, but a sleepy smile spread to his face. ”Five more minutes.”

”Fine. Five minutes.”

Prunelle knew they were going to kiss. Not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but it was definitely happening soon.

After that?

Who knew.

Maybe he'd ask him to stay the night.

 


	3. Playing a game (Pokemon, part 1 of teenage AU)

”Hi.” 

 

Léon lifted his gaze from the book to nod in greeting to his friend Yves Lebrac who sat next to him.

 

He didn't say anything about Léon's new glasses, so the boy very conspiciously adjusted them. When this also failed to get a comment, he said: ”So, I can see now.”

 

”Yeah. So, do you have to wear them all the time now?”

 

Léon shrugged. ”I guess. I mean, it's just easier to have them all the time.”

 

”Did you hear what Gaston did?”

 

”No. And I don't care. Gaston is _annoying,_ and dumb, and always wears the same sweater.”

As soon as he had said that, Léon regretted it.

And wasn't really sure why, that was all _true_.

”But I guess you can tell me, if you want to.”

 

”He wrote his name on the blackboard in HUGE letters, before noticing it was a crayon. So of course he couldn't wash it away.”

 

”So now the blackboard says 'Gaston'?”

 

”Not really. Because he tried to wash it away by mixing all the stuff he found from the janitor's closet into one bucket. So now the blackboard reads 'GAS', and the other half of it is sort of melted into a weird bubbly thing.” Yves smiled. ”But nevermind that, did you get yours?”

 

Léon nodded, reaching for his backbag. ”I haven't started yet, I'll need to buy some batteries for my Gameboy first.”

 

”Which one did you get?”

 

”Red. We agreed to, right?”

 

Yves nodded. ”Yeah, I got Blue so we can trade then. Red's the harder version though.”

 

”It is?”

 

”Yeah, but...” He looked through the instruction booklet and pointed at the picture of a green dinosaur-like creature. ”If you choose Bulbasaur as your first Pokemon, it will be easier. I chose Squirtle.”

 

…

 

 

”Trade me yours, though!”

 

”No.” Bertrand told Gaston.

 

”Why not?”

 

”Because I don't wanna just give you my starter. But okay, give me your Venusaur then.”

So, it seemed like Léon and Yves weren't the only ones playing Pokemon. Most of the class were, by the looks of it, and since someone had brought a link cable to school, a crowd had gathered at the schoolyard to battle and trade.

 

”But I want to have both Charizard and Venusaur.” Gaston insisted.

 

Léon spoke up. ”I can trade you mine.” 

 

”Didn't you choose Bulbasaur too?” Yves asked.

 

”Um, yeah, but I was planning to restart anyway, so I can choose Charmander and trade it to you and then restart again. If you, you know, are okay with Charmander. Of course, if you get the earliest form and train it you get the pokedex data for all of them.”

 

”I don't care about Pokedex data. I just wanna have a Charizard. Oh, could you trade me Squirtle too?”

 

”Sure.”

 

”Wait.” Jules told him. ”Can you trade me all the starters too?”

 

”Erm, I guess.”

 

Which is how Léon ended up restarting the game several times during the schoolday, and trading everyone the two starters they missed. 

 

”Gaston, if I trade these to you, can you then help me get Gengar? Once I'm far enough in the game. I'll just trade it to you and then you'll trade it back?”

 

”Mmhuh? Sure.”

 

…

 

”Gaston!? What are you doing!?”

 

The other boy turned to look at Léon, completely unfazed that he had been caught going through his backbag. ”Hi.”

 

” _Hi!?_ That's my bag!”

 

”Phuh, relax, I know that. Jules found a ladybug and put it in your bag. I'm trying to save it.”

 

”Give me that! It's private property!”

 

”Careful! You don't want to crush it!”

 

”Fine.” He ended up removing almost all of the things before the beetle was found, safe and sound.

 

Gaston grabbed it. ”Got it.” 

 

Léon quickly stashed the contents of his bag back in, and ran after him. ”Wait!”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”Um, are you going to just release it here?” He gestured at the schoolyard. ”It's all concrete.”

 

”Good point.” Gaston frowned. ”What do ladybugs eat?”

 

”Plants?” Léon guessed.

 

”I'll let it go further along then.”

 

Léon walked after him. Might just as well, they were going the same way.

”Why would Jules put a bug in my bag?”

 

”I dunno. Poor bug.”

 

”But why _mine_?”

 

”Dunno. It was there I guess.”

 

”So, could you trade me the Gengar now?” He could have asked Yves, but there was no harm in talking to Gaston a bit. And he sort of liked being alone with him.

Like he had suddenly become less annoying.

 

”I don't have my link cable with me. You can come over though.”

 

”Yeah, sure. I mean, it's on the way.” Léon told him.

 

He tried to think of something to say.

”So, do you like bugs?”

 

”I guess.”

 

Well, that discussion didn't go anywhere.

 

He decided to try again. ”What Pokemon you have on your team? I got Venusaur, Vaporeon, Pidgeot, Hitmonlee, Omastar and obviously Haunter. I also have Aerodactyl but since no-one in my team could learn Strength I had to leave it out to have Hitmonlee. Plus, you know, a fighting type. Although I think it looks kinda stupid. Did you know Hitmonlee and Hitmonchan were named after Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan?”

Léon had a feeling he was talking too much.

“So, uh, your team?”

 

”Venusaur, Charizard, Blastoise, Zapdos, Pidgeot and Mewtwo. Although since we agreed not to use Mewtwos in battle I use Flareon instead.”

 

”So you have two firetypes?”

 

”Yeah, but Flareon is the strongest Eevee's evolution.”

 

Léon nodded.

 

”Do you have Mewtwo?” Gaston asked.

 

”No, I restarted, so...” He hadn't even beat Elite Four yet.

 

”When you will, can you trade it to me?”

 

”Um, not really. Besides, you already have one!”

 

”Yeah, but I want to have six.”

 

”But no-one is going to agree to battle you then.” Léon pointed out.

 

”Yeah, but it would be kinda cool.”

 

He let the ladybug free, slightly blowing on it to make it fly away. “Here's some plants.”

 

He turned to point at the house. “I live here.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” He saw Gaston often enough, since he lived on his way to school. 

 

…

 

”So, it evolved.” Léon wasn't sure what to say now that the thing he had come over for was done. Should he leave?

 

Gaston leaned closer. ”Guess what? I know something cool.”

 

”What?”

 

”Promise not to tell anyone, okay?” He whispered conspiratorially.

 

”I guess?”

 

”It's something Fantasio told me. How to find a super-rare secret Pokemon and clone items.”

 

”Missingno?” 

 

Gaston seemed disappointed. ”Oh, you already know.”

 

Well, he did, since Fantasio had told him too. Not that he had tried it, since he was afraid it would mess up his game.

”I've heard of it. But you can show me how.”

He handed over his game, hoping it wouldn't end up completely broken.

 

”Gaston?”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”I have some Pokemon cards Fantasio brought me from the city. But they're at home, so, maybe if you wanna see them? Sometime?”

 

”Yeah, sure.”

 

Maybe Gaston wasn't really annoying at all.

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: I feel the need to point out that the claim that ladybugs eat 'plants' is (generally speaking) incorrect, and you should not make up facts like that. 

The beetles of Family Coccinellidae, which are colloqually known as 'ladybugs' (although I am uncertain whether the common name is also used for other beetles. This goes for all animals, but especially with invertebrates you really should refer to them by their scientific name if possible.), are almost all predators. 

There _is_ a subfamily of herbivorous ladybugs, but they are a minority and in any case I seem to recall they tend to be monophagous so the statement that they eat 'plants' is highly misleading at best. And I sort of started writing an essay on beetle-taxonomy here but then I remembered what I was doing and deleted it.

 

A/N 2): A random bit of trivia, but Léon's team is the team I had by the end of my first run of Red, Gaston's the first team I had on Lv. 100. (Apart from Flareon)

 

A/N 3): Also this is all basically based on my experience playing Red 15 years ago. (Although I wasn't this young) So the 'facts' that Red is a harder version or that Flareon is the strongest (while in reality its attack stat is the greatest but it's typing and moveset makes it the most useless) were 'facts' amongst our social group.

 

A/N 4) And again, based on my experience here, but back when Red and Blue were first out in Finland, there were very few places where you could get Pokemon-cards. The nearest place for me was a shop in the city 50 km away that sold collectable card-games, manga, miniatures, all that stuff and it was the only place for that. It was also a shop that was legendarily scary and hostile, it was in a dark place next to a funeral parlour, there were always a bunch of weird men hanging at the back painting Warhammer-figurines, and the staff generally clearly wished you weren't there. (Well, this _is_ Finland, so it's standard customer service...)

So kids would either go in groups to buy cards, or have older kids (like me) go and buy them for them when in the city. So I imagine in this AU Fantasio is an older kid who did just that. 

 

A/N: 5) Also presumably  Léon and Gaston would have played this game in French but whatever.

 


	4. On a Date

”So, how have you been?” It had been a while since Fantasio had seen Prunelle. They hadn't seen much of each other outside of work in the first place, and once Fantasio had stopped working at the editorial office, they had had little reason to call each other.

 

Which was a shame, they got along well. He'd have to try keeping in touch.

 

”Nothing special. Nothing different. Work, mostly. Everything is the same basically.”

Fantasio nodded, wondering if he was feeling out of place here. He wasn't really sure how Léon had ended up accompanying him, Spirou and Gaston on their picnic in the first place.

 

Prunelle and Spirou had been _acquaintances_ at best , and while he wasn't sure how well Prunelle got along with Gaston, he probably saw enough of him at work. So Fantasio was the person who knew him best, and even they had been really only work-friends...

 

He wouldn't have paid much attention to Gaston's giggle, if Léon hadn't shot him an odd look.

A bit weird.

 

”Nothing has changed?” Fantasio feigned disappointment. ”Me leaving didn't make the offices collapse in a confused mess? You actually manage just fine without me? I guess I wasn't needed...”

 

”Just ignore him.” Spirou told them. ”He just misses the office.”

 

”You should come over sometimes.” Gaston suggested.

 

”Maybe.”

 

”Prunelle!” Gaston shot a disapproving glare at the man next to him.

 

”Come on, we're outside!”

But despite his protest Léon put away his pipe.

 

There was, again, something slightly odd about their exchange.

And Gaston hadn't said anything when Fantasio had smoked a pipeful on the way...

 

Maybe they had just become better friends than he had thought?

 

”Do you spend a lot of time together, outside of work?”

 

The look that had flashed on Léon's face had been undoubtedly guilty, and the way Gaston almost spoke before glancing at the man next to him, and letting him answer...

”Well, yes. Gaston drags me into all kinds of things. Like now.”

 

His smile was almost natural.

 

”Well, he did that with me too.” He told Léon, hoping it would put his mind at ease.

 

But now that Fantasio started to pay attention to it, he could spot all kinds of little gestures, the little shared smiles, how Prunelle knew how Gaston liked his pancakes, how Gaston called him 'Léon' once...

 

He was almost certain.

 

And if it was true, this was a bizarre situation, with two couples on a double-date, but both hiding their relationship.

 

He'd have to find a way to be absolutely certain, and speak with Spirou, but maybe they could stop pretending, if just in this company.

 

And maybe have an official double-date.

 


	5. Kissing

There's their first kiss, which is less like a kiss and more like a collision of pursed lips.

 

And there's the kiss that's just a quick peck Prunelle plants on Gaston's cheek before the workday officially starts, guiltily glancing around, afraid that someone would see.

 

And there's the time Prunelle buries his face into the shaggy black hair and plants a kiss there the first time Gaston falls asleep on his arms.

 

And there's the kiss that's an attempt to make the editor forget Gaston flooded the office. It doesn't work.

 

And there's the sloppy and wet kiss during the first time they have sex, that is aimed at Prunelle's lips, but ends up mostly on his ear.

 

And there's the series of kisses placed on Gaston's ear, and nape of the neck, and left nipple and navel, part of Prunelle's quest to map every inch of his partner's body and find out what responses he can get out of him.

 

There's the kiss that tells him his feet are ticklish.

 

And there's the kiss on Prunelle's cheek he barely notices because he is too busy with work.

 

And there's the quick kiss they share on a company picnic when they think no-one is looking. But later Prunelle suspects Lebrac caught a glimpse of it. The artist says nothing, and the editor wonders if everyone already knows.

 

And there's the kiss that feels like it crushes Gaston's lips while he is lying in a hospital bed, and he is confused why Léon seems so angry when this time the only person who got hurt by his experiment was himself.

 

And there's the kiss that seals their decision to move in together.

 

And there's the kiss Gaston sneaks on Prunelle's cheek, only to be shooed away with a reminder that he is still angry and that either the huge dog Gaston rescued from somewhere would leave or he would.

 

And there's the kiss they share after agreeing that the dog can stay but that Gaston really should have asked Léon's opinion before deciding to take it in.

 

And there's the kiss Gaston places on the hairless chin, laughing and telling him he looks naked without his beard, while Prunelle mumbles that he thought it would make him look younger.

 

A week later there's the kiss that lands on the beard that's back the same as ever. Well, the same apart from the first grey hairs.

 

And there's the kiss that tastes suspiciously like tobacco, even after Prunelle swears he has quit.

 

And there's the kiss Gaston gives him in the park, after they decide to be open about their relationship, and the kiss Léon returns once there are less people around.

 

And there's the kiss that's an attempt to take Gaston's attention away from the anonymous phonecall that comes at 3 am and makes Prunelle regret their decision to come out.

 

And there's the kiss that tastes like cod and strawberry, after which Prunelle tells him this is the only way his experimental cooking is even remotely enjoyable even after all these years.

 

And there's the desperate kiss given in the hopes it will wipe the tears away when Prunelle doesn't know what to say after Gaston tells him Aunt Hortense has slept away.

 

And there's the kiss that's an attempt to get Léon to come to bed when he is working on his book.

 

And there's the kiss Léon knows to place in just the right spot to make Gaston moan, after years of experience.

 

And there's the kiss they share after telling each other 'I do', finally able to do this after being together for almost 30 years.

 

And there's the kiss Gaston gives him instead of an answer when Léon asks if he regrets at all that he wasn't able to have children.

 

And there's the panicked kiss placed on Léon's forehead when they wait for the ambulance, in the vain hope it would somehow help, somehow keep Léon in this world.

 

And there's the relieved kiss after the heart surgery is a success.

 

And there's the kiss that wakes Gaston up when he has fallen asleep on the couch and that's accompanied by a reminder to take his medication, because no, he isn't as young as he used to be either.

 

And there's the kiss that startles Gaston and makes him giggle like a young boy because he wasn't expecting tongue.

 

And there's the kiss that's an assurance that Léon will still get back home, once he is better.

 

And then there's the kiss placed on a rose that's left on a grave.

 

And each of those kisses is unique.

 


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

Gaston had just pulled his sweater off, when Prunelle pushed his hands away. ”Shh! I think I heard someone!”

 

He hit the light switch, leaving them in the dark in the cramped supply closet.

”I didn't-”

 

Prunelle hushed him, and did his best trying to find his clothes that had ended up somewhere on the floor. ”Rogntudjuu Gaston, you're half-naked, what if someone sees you?” He stopped. ”I don't think this is my sweater-”

 

Suddenly there was light, and a giggle escaped Gaston. ”I don't think it was!”

 

”Shh, what are you doing?” But Prunelle couldn't deny he was a ridiculous sight in the green jumper that was too small even for Gaston.

 

”Whoever it was, they left already.” Gaston told him. ”So why sit in the dark?” The white jumper the editor had been wearing just a minute or two ago was a rather good, if a bit loose fit for the younger man.

 

”Come on, let's switch back-” But before Prunelle could get the sweater off, Gaston pulled his discarded glasses from somewhere and set them on his nose.

”Rogntudjuu, Lagaffe! Get to work!”

 

Prunelle stared. ”Was that supposed to be an imitation of me?”

 

”Pretty good, huh?”

 

”I only recognized it because you slipped a 'rogntudjuu' in.”

 

”Phuh.” Gaston rearranged his hair, trying to mimic Prunelle's hairstyle. ”Rogntudjuu, the cat has been sleeping on my chair again, and I have an issue with that for stupid reasons.”

 

Prunelle couldn't help a smile tugging at his mouth. Well, two could play this game.

 

He was guessing his hair was already in complete disarray, so he just slouched, trying to find a tired look on his face. ”Mmhuh? What do you mean they don't pay me for sleeping all day? Or for playing with cats or for making things explode?”

He smirked leaning towards Gaston, and draped his arms around him. ”Or for dragging my boss into a supply closet middle of the day?”

 

Prunelle placed a series of kisses on his neck. ”To do things that are completely in-app-rop-ri-ate for the workplace...”

 

Gaston feigned anger. ”Rogntudjuu, Gaston! GRRR! But let's make out anyway.”

He captured Prunelle's mouth with his own, and added, ”And I can do that thing with my tongue you like so much...”

 

”What thing?” Prunelle decided to stay in character. ”I mean, phuh, there are many things you do with your tongue I enjoy a lot. Based on the noises I make anyway. How about you show me what you mean?”

 

Gaston was just reaching to do just that when the door opened.

 

And they were faced with half the office staring at them. Half the office and Mr. Mesmaeker, because naturally, if Prunelle was caught making out with Gaston while wearing his clothes, _of course_ Mesmaeker would be there to see it.

 

'Aliens made me do it' was the best explanation Prunelle's stunned mind could come up with, but Gaston was the first to speak, so at least he was spared _some_ embarrassment.

”Yeah, this kinda is what it looks like.”

 

(Which got at least one 'I knew it!' from the crowd.)

 


	7. Cosplaying

”Hey, Prunelle. Are you going to the fancy dress party? The one tomorrow?”

 

The editor didn't look up from his work. ”I wasn't planning to.”

 

”Most of the office are going.” Gaston told him.

 

”I don't even have a costume-”

 

”I'll lend you one.”

 

The editor considered it. Why not? It wasn't like he had anything to do tomorrow evening. However...

 

”It's not something too weird, is it? I'm not really planning on dancing, but it would be nice if I was able to _move_.”

 

”It's perfectly fine! It's something I've worn myself, you'll love it!”

 

He doubted it. ”What are you going as?”

 

”It will be a surprise!”

 

Yes, he was definitely starting to doubt it.

 

…

 

At least Gaston was on time to pick him up.

 

”HOUBA!” Gaston jumped to Prunelle's flat.

 

”You're going as Marsupilami, then?” Prunelle nodded approvingly. As far as Gaston's costumes went, this one was downright normal.

 

”What did you bring for me to wear?”

 

Gaston pushed the bundle of clothing at him. ”Here.”

 

It took Prunelle a while to realize what it was, the odd colour-scheme throwing him off.

”An another Marsupilami costume? But a black one?”

 

”Yeah, I thought it would be dull if we wore exactly the same thing. Come on, I'll help you put it on.”

 

Prunelle had to admit, it was much better than he had feared, and he was even able to wear glasses comfortably.

”You happened to have two costumes like this?”

 

Gaston pulled the zipper on his back up. ”Hm? Something like that. Come on, let's go.”

 

…

 

”So, you came as a Smurf, then?” Prunelle asked.

Jef nodded, taking a sip of his drink. ”Yeah.”

 

”What Smurf exactly?”

 

”Just a Smurf.”

 

”Ah.” Prunelle suddenly remembered why he never really spoke to Jef outside of work.

 

And he was almost relieved when Gaston took his hand. ”So, shall we dance?”

 

Prunelle hesitated. ”I'm not-”

 

His objections were ignored. ”Come on, we match, it would be weird if we didn't dance!”, and the editor was dragged to the dance floor.

 

To Prunelle's relief, the crowded dance floor pretty much meant it was less of a dance, and more of the couples slightly waving back and forth.

 

However, it also meant they were pushed close to each other, and Gaston had draped the long tail of his costume around Prunelle, drawing him even closer.

 

Which made him uncomfortable, and yet he was oddly disappointed when the dance ended.

 

He returned from the dance floor, only for Gaston to follow him. (The tail still around him.)

 

”You can go and dance with someone else,” Prunelle told him. ”You know, since for once you are actually able to.”

 

”No, we should stick together, since you know...”

 

No, Prunelle didn't know.

 

”You could try being in character a bit,” Gaston told him.

 

”Houba houba. Sorry, that's as far as I'm going in-character.”

 

”Hop!”

 

Prunelle smiled. ”Hop.”

 

”You should come to these things more often. We could do this again.”

 

”Hm?” There was something about the way Gaston had said that. And- was he blushing?

 

Wait a second.

 

Wasn't this basically a date?

No, not really.

But Gaston had asked him to come, and picked him up, and made sure their outfits matched, and was now doing his best to keep close...

 

Prunelle glanced at Gaston, starting to wonder.

”This kind of thing?”

 

And now the office boy was definitely blushing.

”You know, relax a bit.”

 

”Hm.” Prunelle wondered if it was best to directly ask Gaston what he had thought this was. Whether he really considered this a 'date?'

 

But he hesitated.

And to his shock Prunelle realized that the reason he was afraid of asking was that Gaston could tell him no, this definitely wasn't a date.

 

He wasn't really certain what that said about himself, but...

 

Prunelle reached out a costumed hand and clumsily took hold of Gaston's.

”It might be nice. Every once in a while.”

 

Gaston smiled, and Prunelle knew that even if this wasn't officially a date, and even if Gaston didn't think it was, he'd be calling it that in his mind.

 


	8. Shopping

 

 

”Wait, where did those marshmallows and- is that a can if pickles? Where did they come from?” Prunelle pointed at the shopping cart.

 

”Just felt like it.” Gaston told him.

 

”You're not going to experiment again? If you are planning to make marshmallow-filled pickles or something, you won't be doing it in the kitchen, and you will be the one to eat them.”

 

”Hm, I wasn't planning to, but now that you mention it... That sounds interesting.”

 

”Bleh!”

 

”It's not my fault years of smoking have completely ruined your sense of taste!”

 

”Oh, believe me, whenever your cooking ventures into unknown territory I wish all my taste buds were burned off.”

 

”Pfft, you liked the coke-marinated chicken- _soufflé_ I mad e yesterday, admit it.”

 

”After we managed to put out all the fires, yes. But anyway, we'll be needing something quick for tonight. What do you think of avocado pasta?”

 

”Sure. Oh, that reminds me.” Three bottles of olive oil found their way into the cart.

 

”We're out of olive oil? And why this much?”

 

”It's an experiment. I'm trying to adapt my aunt's old electric sewing machine to run on oil.”

 

Prunelle returned two of the bottles to the shelf and replaced them with cheaper ones. ”You don't need extra virgin for that. This bottle here is for cooking, remember that.”

 

”Sure. By the way, we need more shaving cream.”

 

”Wait, you _barely_ shave, and the last I used it there was plenty. Another experiment?”

 

”No, I used it to shave the neighbour's badger.”

 

”Of course. I do sort of want to know the context for that, actually.”

 

”Isn't it obvious? She has this old stuffed badger she got from her grandpa, and since it had large patches of it's fur fallen off, we thought it would look better with no fur at all.”

 

”Does it?”

 

”Well, at least now it's a great conversation piece.”

 

”You didn't use _my_ razor, did you?”

 

”Not this time.”

 

Gaston disappeared somewhere, and came back carrying a packet of fish. ”For the cat.”

 

”Gaston, he is supposed to be on a diet.”

 

”Pfft, he is fine. He's lost enough weight.”

 

”Gaston, he still looks like a little furry ball that has legs poking out of it. Yesterday he was laying on the floor, and when I moved my chair and blocked his sun he started wailing until I gave up and moved it back. Instead of literally moving half a metre to an another spot on the floor.”

 

”Well it's your fault, he's only gaining weight because you insisted we get him fixed.”

 

”In other words, you're admitting he's fat?”

 

”Maybe a _bit._ I can still get the fish for the gull. Although the cat will get jealous and hurt I'm not feeding him anything else than the dry weird diet cat food.”

 

”You tell him he can blame me for it, then. Is this all?”

 

”I think so.”

 

”We have toilet paper?”

 

”I used it all for my mummy-costume, but I rerolled them back. They're perfectly usable.”

 

”Butter?”

 

”Yeah.”

 

”Bread? I'm pretty sure I put some in the cart but...”

 

”I returned it. I'll be baking bread tomorrow.”

 

Prunelle nodded. ”So, I think we got everything, then.”

 


	9. Hanging out with friends (part 2 of teenage AU)

 

I use the name ' Aimée' for Lebrac's unnamed girlfriend.

(And since it's mentioned like once in the actual comics, Lebrac's first name is Yves.)

 

...

 

 

Finally he answered the phone. ”Léon.”

 

”So, you wanna come over?” Gaston asked. Somehow they hadn't seen each other since the summer break had began.

 

”Mmh, for what?”

 

”We could try repairing our tree-house. And-”

 

”Gaston, we're sixteen, not _six._ ”

 

”So?” What was wrong with Léon lately?

”Or we could go looking for bugs, if you promise not to murder them and stick them to a box with pins again or something.”

 

”I have other things to do. I'm not into that sort of stuff anymore.”

 

”Wait, what kinds of things you do now then?”

 

”Well, you know. Jules's parents are away for the weekend, so he's having a party. If you want to, you could come too. Were you planning to?”

 

”Sure, why not?”

 

 

…

”Hiih, Léon.” Gaston waved, happy to finally spot his friend. People had already been starting to leave.

 

”Wait, Gaston, are you drunk?”

 

”No, pfft, nope. Bertrand brought a bottle of... something, I took a sip. And it tasted good so I took another.”

It wasn't like it was a problem. He was just feeling nice. He was completely in control of... stuff.

 

”Your hair is fluffy.” He giggled a bit at his joke and waved at Yves and Aimée. ”Hello!”

 

”Okay then, you're obviously drunk. Not that I'm surprised you're a lightweight.” Léon took his hand. ”Come on.”

 

Surprised at this, Gaston stumbled a bit. And then, because it seemed like a great idea somehow, he pretended being more afflicted than he was, and leaned on his friend.

 

”Gaston?”

 

”Mmmmhh?”

 

”Are you in any condition to walk back home?”

 

Gaston did his best to bury his face in Léon's T-shirt to hide his smile. Plus he was warm and smelled nice, so it was kinda nice.

 

”Should I call your aunt? To tell her to pick you up?”

 

”No!”

He wasn't keen on letting her see him like this. Not that he was drunk.

 

Léon mumbled something, and before Gaston could react, he was picked up bridal style.

He laughed. ”Are you gonna carry me all the way home?”

 

”You're not _that_ light. They won't probably mind if you rest a bit in the guest bedroom though. Unless you throw up. Do you think you're going to?”

 

”Mmhno. Still not drunk.”

 

He was set down on the bed. Maybe he was a bit sleepy, but just a bit.

 

”Gaston?”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”On your side. In case you'll be sick. Although you should probably try not to vomit all over Jules's parents' bed.”

 

”I'm not gonna.” He tried to sit up, but was pushed back on his side.

 

”Do you think you'll black out or faint or something?”

 

Gaston yawned.

 

”How much did you drink? You won't get alcohol poisoning?”

 

”Don't be silly. You always worry too much.”

 

But it was a bit nice, especially when Léon sat next to him, and laid his hand on his forehead.

”You're feeling a bit warm, maybe you have fever?”

 

”Just a bit tired, is all...”

 

”I'm not sure if I should let you fall asleep.”

 

”Talk to me then.”

 

”About what?”

 

_About why I don't see you that much anymore._

But he decided not to ask. And since he was here now, it was all fine.

Gaston sat up, ignoring his protests.

 

”I dunno, stuff.” He'd just like to hear him talk, actually. Ever since his voice had broken few years back and lowered by a few octaves, it had sort of felt nice. Especially when he leaned close...

He stared at his face. There was something he had never noticed before.

 

”Gaston, what are you doing?”

 

”Mmhuh?”

It had just felt natural to reach to touch his chin, to feel the few rouch hairs poking out of his skin.

Before he had time to say anything, Léon pushed his hand away and stood up.

”We should probably get you home. You don't seem as drunk as I originally thought.”

 

The door opened, and a giggling couple stumbled into the room, arms wrapped around each other.

”Oh!”

Yves looked embarassed upon realizing the room was occupied, and pulled out of the kiss, but still staying close to Aimée.

 

”Gaston wasn't feeling too good.” Léon hurried to say.

 

”Are you okay?” Yves asked Gaston. ”If you need a lift home, Fantasio is leaving and he has a car, so...”

 

”That's great, then. I'm sure he'll give Gaston a lift.” Léon told him. ”I should be going too.”

And before Gaston could ask why he wasn't coming with him, since Fantasio wouldn't mind taking him home too, he hurried out of the room.

…

 

The next time Gaston saw Léon it was again at Jules's house.

”Hi!”

He could see Léon trying to turn around when he spotted him, so he dashed after him. ”Wait!”

And since it felt like the best way to stop him from escaping, Gaston pushed him into a nearby closet and joined in, closing the door after them. He had had enough of Léon avoiding him.

 

”Rogntudjuu, Gaston!” Léon struggled to get away from the pile of winter clothes he had fallen into.

 

”Shh, do you want people to hear we're here?”

 

This silenced him, and he managed to struggle into a sitting position in the cramped dimly-lit closet.

”This is idiotic, and childish, and-”

 

”Pfft, don't really care.”

 

The closet was rather small, so despite Léon's efforts to stay as far from Gaston as possible they were pressing against each other quite a bit, especially when Gaston purposefully blocked his way to the door.

”I'm not sure if you'd want to- To push so close to me.” Léon told him.

 

”Why not?”

 

”Gaston, I'm, well I have kinda always known I guess, but now I'm sure about it. That I'm gay.”

He added: ”Don't tell anyone.”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”I mean that I like-”

 

”I know what being gay is.” What he didn't get was why he was telling him. And why he was getting this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

”I haven't told anyone, but... AndIlikeyou.”

 

”Oh.” It was fairly difficult to tell in the limited light, but he was fairly certain Léon was beet-red.

 

It seemed to Gaston like he should probably say something.

”I don't know if I'm gay. We should probably kiss.”

 

”Eh?”

 

”So I'd know.”

 

”Okay.”

 

They awkwardly pushed their lips together.

 

”So?” Léon asked.

 

There really hadn't been any great revelation.

”I don't know. We should do it again.”

 

Maybe this time he should try a bit harder? So Gaston did his best to wrap his arms around the other boy and made vague attempts to move his mouth a bit more, hoping that was how kissing worked.

 

Suddenly there was much more light.

And a yell from Joseph: ”Gaston and Léon are making out in a closet!”

 

Léon stumbled out, and ran off.

 

”Wait!”

 

Gaston ignored the people gathering to see the alleged makeouts and ran after him. He lost him, but the slam of the front door gave him a pretty good idea where he had gone. So he ran after him and yelled ”Léon!” to the night. He couldn't see him anywhere-

 

”I'm here.” Came the voice behind him.

Gaston turned to see Léon sitting on the porch.

”I wasn't going to run off into the night without my jacket or shoes.” He pointed out.

 

Gaston couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed at that. He had had a mental image of catching up with him in some dramatically appropriate location, and embracing him and-

 

_Something._

 

He sat next to him. ”I guess.”

 

”I haven't told my mom. And now everyone knows.”

 

”Pfft, who cares?”

 

”Hmmh. Well, at least for me, it's, I mean at least I actually _am_ , but now everyone will think you're gay too.” He glanced at Gaston, uncertain.

 

”I dunno if I'm gay.”

 

”Okay.”

 

”But I'm pretty sure I like you.” Gaston told him.

 

”In the way that you'd want to kiss and- and stuff? I mean, we don't _have_ _to_ or anything.”

 

”I dunno. I haven't really thought about it. But I think I'd be okay with kissing and hugging.” Gaston leaned a bit closer. ”So... Are we boyfriends now?”

 

”I guess? If you want to.”

 

”Yeah, that'd be nice.” Gaston said.

 

”Do you want to go back in? I'm not sure what I want to tell them. Gaston.”

 

”Hmm?”

 

”Tomorrow, if you still want to, we could do something together.”

 

”To repair the tree-house?”

 

Léon smiled. ”If you want to.”

 

”Or make out?”

 

”We could do both.”

 

 

 


	10. With animal ears

Prunelle stepped into the office, relieved that there he could shed his disguise.

 

Even if his condition wasn't exactly a secret, he'd still rather avoid curious glances and stares, and hide his black cat-tail and ears under clothing whenever outside.

 

Reflexively, his ears turned towards the sounds coming from the office. It sounded like Lebrac was already in. The improved hearing was certainly nice now that he had glasses that were fitting and comfortable, even if some of Gaston's experiments had left his sensitive ears ringing for days, although given a choice he would have traded it for fully human sight without hesitation.

 

Considering his eyesight had always been bad, it hadn't been that much of a change, and of course he didn't need much light to see anymore. But he had also lost much of his colour-vision, which was actually detrimental to his job, and he had to have been open about it and start relying on Jef for more artistic decisions.

 

Some changes to his senses he had kept to himself, though.

 

He breathed in the smells of the office, wondering how he had ever fared with a mere human nose.

Prunelle walked to his room, making sure he touched all the doorframes with his hand, leaving his scent on them.

 

”Morning.”

 

Lebrac nodded from his workstation. ”Morning, Prunelle.”

 

Even the smells of his paints couldn't hide the fact that Aimée's essence was all over him.

Embarassed, Prunelle avoided his eyes.

 

There were things he would have rather not known about the private lives of his colleagues...

 

And in any case, it was just one more reason to keep silent about just how good his sense of smell was now.

 

He walked to the mail-room, and found Gaston awake, but reading comics.

”Gaston...”

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes and face with his hand, feigning frustration.

 

”Just look at that mountain of mail! It keeps growing, day by day!”

He pointed at the mail backlog, distracting Gaston from his other hand quickly touching his back, leaving his scent there.

 

Marking him as _his._

 

Gaston said something, some excuse no doubt.

Prunelle's attention was elsewhere.

 

His scent was still nicely all over Gaston, but...

He wondered if it would be possible to somehow rub his face against him without arousing suspicion. Maybe if he pretended to fall on him, or if he could get close to him in a packed elevator and 'accidentally' rub against him.

 

Or maybe he could just ask?

 

No, that was out of the question.

He watched Gaston's cat jump on the table, and look far too smug in Prunelle's opinion when Gaston lifted him to his lap.

 

”Hm, Prunelle? You got a problem with my cat?”

 

Prunelle was shaken from his reverie. ”No.”

That was one added complication.

 

These days Gaston could actually sense his mood, having always been far more observant when it came to animals and their moods.

Prunelle did his best to still his tail.

 

”Get to work, Gaston!”

 

Yes, he might have been _slightly_ jealous of Gaston's cat and how easily he could touch him and be touched by him.

But he wasn't about to start competing with a _cat._

 

However, he couldn't resist touching the doorframe on his way out, leaving his mark too high up for a cat to reach.

 

Prunelle walked back to his room, deep in thought.

 

He had been getting used to the idea of just letting Gaston know how he felt, but...

 

Not yet.

 

For now this was enough.

 


	11. Wearing kigurumis (Part 3 of the teenage AU)

 

 

"Come on, close your eyes."

 

Léon looked suspicious. "Why?"

 

"Just do." Gaston told him.

 

"Fine, but I won't be opening my mouth."

 

"Phuh, one time I tried to experiment and surprise you with my cooking-"

 

"That was hardly the only time you've experimented! Every time you try cooking it's always weird for the sake of being weird!"

 

"Strawberry cod is a family recipe." He smiled. "Come on, you're gonna love it."

 

Léon closed his eyes. "Fine, but it better not be blackberries in mustard again."

 

"Okay, open them now."

 

The surprise turned out to be Gaston wearing an odd dark green hoodie.

"What's that?"

 

"It's only half the surprise." He pushed a dark blue hoodie at Léon. "Go on, put it on!"

 

"You made these?" It was good work, if a bit of an odd design.

 

Gaston nodded, and pulled his hood up. He pointed at his head. "See? It has cat-ears!"

 

"And a tail."

 

"What do you think?"

 

"It's nice. And you look-" He was about to say 'cute', but at the last moment decided it was probably a bit weird thing to say. "Nice."

 

"We're gonna wear them when the school starts." Gaston told him.

 

"What?"

 

Gaston avoided his eyes. "I just thought it would be nice, you know, if we matched."

 

"Oh." So far, they hadn't told anyone they dated, although he had a feeling people had guessed. At least Gaston's aunt, who Léon was pretty sure had been giving him knowing looks. But summer break had made it easy to avoid everyone else.

Not that he even was sure _how_ to go on about it.

 

It felt stupid to make a big deal about it to announce people they were in a relationship, and he had just hoped it would come out on it's own.

Actually...

 

"That... Might not be such a bad idea, actually."  Léon admitted.

It would all come out naturally, maybe someone would ask why they were wearing them, and-

Then what?

Would they say 'Of course we're matching, we're a couple now!'?

 

Would Gaston kiss him as an answer?

Would they be kissing in public from now on?

 

Maybe not  _too_ publicly...

 

"Why a cat-hoodie, though?"

 

"I thought it would be nice, since you love cats."

 

"No, I don't. That's  _you,_ Gaston.  _You_ love cats!"

 

"You don't?"

 

"Well, I-"  Léon was on polite terms with Gaston's cat, but he wasn't exactly a cat person.

 

"You know, I have a cat. So  _you'll_ have a cat too, you know, eventually..."

 

It took  Léon a while to realize what he was saying.

"You mean, once we'll live together?"

 

"Yeah. We will, right?"

 

Léon hadn't thought of it at all. Their future after high school. 

All he had been concerned with was next week.

 

He nodded, and the smile Gaston gave him seemed relieved.

"I like cats."  Léon told him. Well, it wasn't a lie, exactly. It wasn't like he hated cats or anything.

 

"Great. And if we get a cat together and you'll raise it from a kitten, you'll love it as much as I do!"

 

"Not yet, right? I mean, we can talk about adopting cats later, right?"

 

"And, you know..."

 

"Moving together and all that stuff."  Léon kissed Gaston before he could start proposing to him.

 

He didn't want to think any of that right now.

 

...

 

Léon stepped into the classroom, wearing his cat-hoodie, and doing his best to avoid people's eyes. Where was Gaston? Wearing this thing was embarassing enough when there were two of them!

 

Yves turned around on his chair to grin at  Léon .

"Nice shirt. Did your mom buy it to you?"

 

"No. My boyfriend. My boyfriend made it. Gaston made it."

 

"Oh."

 

Léon opened his bag and pretended to look for something to avoid his eyes.

But Yves didn't say anything beyond 'oh', and when Gaston joined them he didn't act out of the ordinary.

 

That had been easy. Not that it was over just yet, not everyone knew yet, but it would probably all be fine.

 


	12. Making Out

Prunelle wasn't really sure what the young man practically sprawled on his lap was doing.

 

He never really knew what Gaston was going to do. Once he had gotten over his initial shyness he had approached making out with the same kind of attitude he did with most things;

 

Compensating for actual skill with enthusiasm.

 

This time, he seemed to have a thing for Prunelle's ears, planting a series of kisses there, which was sort of nice, even though the position didn't really leave the editor any places to kiss.

 

Although he didn't exactly _mind_ the warm body moving on top of him, slightly pinning him to the conference room sofa.

 

But he was feeling kinda awkward, with Gaston doing most of the work at the moment (Not something he had thought he'd ever be worrying about), and not leaving the editor really any way to reciprocate.

He slipped his hands under Gaston's shirt, hoping it'd be enough.

 

Prunelle wasn't really sure why he was licking his earlobe though, but if he was into that, why not?

 

But when the tongue was pushed _inside_ his ear, he was startled, and pushed Gaston away.

”Rogntudjuu, Gaston!”

 

Gaston pulled back, still sitting on his lap, and made a face. ”Bleh! That was a bad idea! Do you ever wash your ears!?”

 

”Well I didn't expect someone would be trying to lick my eardrums!”

 

”There's no way I was _that_ far in. You're exaggerating. I just thought you might like it.”

 

”Ah. Why?”

 

”Well, I kinda liked it when _you_ did that sorta stuff yesterday, so...”

 

”You did? Would you like me to do that again? I don't know if I'd really want to do what you did just now, but if you washed your ears-”

 

Gaston waved. ”Phuh, probably not. But you can lick them a bit if you like.”

 

”I can do that.” Prunelle reached to do just that, and ran his tongue on Gaston's earlobe, and ended it to a kiss.

 

”Hmm, yeah, that was okay.”

 

”Just for the record, don't try to do that thing again.” Prunelle told him.

 

”How am I supposed to know what I like if I don't experiment? For example I never knew I wanted you to squeeze my butt before you started doing that.”

 

”You have a point. As long as you don't try anything too weird. And you could ask beforehand. But now we know I don't like to get my ear canals wet and you don't like the taste of earwax. So let's not do that again. However...”

 

He sneaked his hands on Gaston's behind, which got an appreciative 'Mmh'.

 

 

”And there are _so many_ things I never knew I liked before you...”

The editor moaned. ”Yeah, like that. I definitely never would have thought of that.”

 

However, as nice as it was, when he could feel Gaston reaching for his belt, he pushed his hands away.

”No, Gaston.”

 

”Mmhuh? You want to.” However, he withdrew.

 

”Mmh, Gaston, I do _want_ to.” It was pretty obvious the younger man practically sitting on him could feel his arousal. ”But we're not going to do that sort of stuff in the conference room.”

 

”Why not?”

 

”Because they just redecorated and I'm not interested in explaining away any weird stains on the brand new furniture or carpets.”

 

”I could swallow.”

 

”You never do.” Prunelle pointed out. ”Not _all_ of it. Half of it always ends up on the floor or my trousers, or on one occasion on my _typewriter._ So no.” He sighed. ”We should stop.”

 

Disappointed, but not insisting further, Gaston stumbled away from his lap.

 

However he didn't get far before Prunelle reached for him and pulled him next to him, and wrapped his arms around him.

”Although...”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”I think we might, if you want to, continue this. Would you like to come over to my place? There's no work tomorrow and you'll be giving me a lift home anyway, so...”

 

”To stay the night?”

 

”If you want to. And if you promise not to be _too_ loud.”

 

”Phuh, I'm not too loud.”

 

”Not for me.” Prunelle hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him he really did like all the noises Gaston made. He decided not to, just in case he'd get too enthusiastic about it. ”But I don't really want my neighbours to hear what I'm up to.”

 

”Sure.”

 

”And maybe you can experiment a bit.” Prunelle kissed him softly. ”There are definitely some things I've been wanting to try.”

 


	13. Eating icecream

Prunelle stared at the cone of ice cream in his hand. It didn't _look_ weird... 

 

”Go on, try it.” Gaston told him with a wide smile.

Prunelle gave it a suspicious sniff.

 

The making process of this cone had smelled equally bad as his cooking usually did, but the actual end product seemed unusually normal.

And it was a sunny and hot summer day...

 

”It doesn't have any weird spices in it, does it? You didn't put chili in it to seamlessly marry hot and cold in one dessert?”

 

”No. Although, that's actually a good idea-”

 

”No, it really isn't.”

 

”In any case, it's vanilla. I was planning to add different seasonings to them later. This is my first attempt, I wanted you to try it.”

The expectant expression on his face had gotten the editor to try worse things than ice cream, and he felt like running out of objections.

 

”It's really normal vanilla?”

 

”And milk.”

 

Well, maybe the catastrophic part of this culinary experiment had been the actual making process.

 

Prunelle gave it an experimental lick.

It tasted normal.

 

”It's good, actually.”

 

”Great. I'll be making more then.”

Gaston grinned. ”And here I thought I'd have no use for all that cat-milk I happened to-”

 

Gaston wasn't all that certain why the editor gagged at that.

Maybe he was lactose-intolerant.

 


	14. Genderswapped

 

”So?” Gastonette asked, looking expectant.

 

”Unh... You're not wearing your usual dress today.” Léonie Prunelle noted.

 

It was a simple floral dress, but it hugged her form quite nicely unlike her usual clothing. She noted that while Gastonette was petite, she was nevertheless clearly a woman and not a little girl. Really, now that she was making an effort to stand straight-

 

”Do you like it? My aunt Hortense got it for me.”

 

Prunelle averted her eyes quickly. Hoping the younger woman hadn't noticed how her gaze _might_ have stayed at her breasts a bit longer than appropriate. Not that it had been weird or anything. She really hoped she wasn't blushing.

 

Luckily Gastonette didn't seem to notice.

”And Jeanne helped me with my hair.”

 

”I had an idea it was her.” Considering that instead of her usual pig-tails she was sporting a ponytail identical to that of her best friend. Well, it suited her.

 

”You should pay more attention to the way you dress.” Léonie told her. ”You'd be very popular with the boys.”

 

Gastonette slumped back to her slough. ”Phuh, I don't really care about that.”

 

Prunelle smiled. She supposed Gastonette was still a girl, mentally if nothing else. ”Well, give it time...”

 

” _You_ aren't interested in that kind of stuff,” she pointed out.

 

”That's different.” Prunelle told her.

 

”Why, though?” Gastonette took a step towards the older woman, who tensed, uncertain why.

 

”I have my career. I have no time for men.”

The topic was making her more uncomfortable than it really should have. It wasn't like she wasn't used to telling people that, but for some reason talking about it now felt different.

She had to change the topic.

”So, why are you dressing up, anyway?”

 

Gastonette tilted her head. ”Hmh, well, there's the office party tomorrow, and I thought that I'd wear something I could definitely dance in.” She blushed. ”By the way, you never told me if you liked it.”

 

”I like it.” There, that hadn't been that bad.

”I like it a lot.” Well, that she might have left out.

 

But Léonie really loved the smile she gave her.

”Great. I knew you would. So, you gonna give me your first dance?”

 

”What?”

 

”You don't dance?” She seemed disappointed.

 

”Not really.”

 

”You don't know how?” The younger woman stepped closer. ”I could show you.”

 

Before she could start thinking too much, Léonie closed the distance and placed her hand on the slender waist.

And when Gastonette took her other hand and pushed close, she was starting to realize what that odd feeling was.

 

So when the younger woman reached forward she didn't hesitate to kiss back.

 

 

 


	15. Cat AU

I choose to interpret 'In a different clothing style' as WRITE THEM AS CATS.

 

 **Rating:** Caaaaats

 

 **Word Count** (Since this turned out rather long): 3219

 

Remember when I said these would be about 100 words long each? That was a filthy lie.

 

…

 

 

Prunelle watched his humans leave to do whatever it was they did during the day. (Presumably to find food for him.)

 

Well, he'd better get to work too.

 

He did his rounds, going through all the strategic places in the flat, and leaving his scent on them. Most places with a touch, one chair he really liked and that was placed in a strategic position got a bit of claw.

 

The new armchair got a distrustful glare. Hopefully if he never touched it his humans would get the picture and throw it out. He really didn't like it and how it smelled _suspicious,_ and so had abandoned his usual sleeping place on the shelf behind it.

 

Satisfied with his work, and that everyone would now know this flat was his, he jumped on the bed, ready for his scheduled forenoon-nap.

The bed wasn't as good as his usual place, and since the window had been left the tiniest bit ajar, there was a slight breeze blowing, bringing in all kinds of smells.

 

Not really a good place for a nap, but he had to admit, it was interesting. He listened to the sounds of cars, and someone yelling, birds...

And of course there were all these interesting smells.

 

Like-

He lifted his head, just in time to spot the other cat he had smelled, poking his head in from the open window.

”Hey!”

 

Prunelle stared.

 

Apparently unpeturbed, the intruder pushed through the tiny opening. Prunelle was all but certain he'd get stuck, but the scrawny little thing managed to fit through, almost falling to the desk.

 

Prunelle hissed, which failed to get any reaction whatsoever.

 

Diplomacy, then. ”Who are you?”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

A different approach, then. Maybe he should remind him where he was.

”This is my home. Why are _you_ here?”

 

”Mmh, dunno.”

 

The intruder ignored him, jumping down to the floor, stumbling a bit, and walked out of the bedroom door.

 

”Hey, wait a moment!”

 

But by the time Prunelle got over his shock and had followed him, he was already in the kitchen.

Eating _his_ food.

 

”What are you doing!?”

 

He lifted his head long enough to tell him: ”I'm eating.”

 

”My food, rogntudjuu!”

 

”Phuh, it's not like you were eating it. You'll get more.”

 

Well, that was true, but it was still incredibly rude.

But the intruder really looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks, and considering how thin he was...

 

Maybe he could let it slide just this once?

 

After licking _his_ bowl clean and spilling most of the water on the floor in an apparent attempt to drink it all down in one gulp, he seemed satisfied.

 

So, now Prunelle wouldn't mind throwing him out. Not that he really was sure how to go on about it. His usual method of getting rid of people (and the annoying dog that for some reason was occasionally brought to his home) was to either hiss at them until they went away, preferably from atop of the fireplace, or hide under the bed until they gave up and left.

 

He wasn't about to go with the second option with this one, so yelling, then.

 

”Rogntudjuu, this is my home! Get out! Also have you rolled in mud!? You certainly smell like it!”

 

He was really hoping he didn't have fleas...

Probably did though.

 

”Relax, it's not like this place is going to fall apart now that I'm here.”

He sat down, scratching his neck, making caked mud and other dirt fly to the floor.

Prunelle's whiskers twitched in disgust. Fleas. Definitely fleas.

 

”So, what are you called?”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”What do your humans yell when they want to give you food? When you're fed?”

 

He thought about it. ”'No!' Usually. 'Get back here!' sometimes.”

 

”Not really what I meant... Wait, do you even have humans?”

 

”Well, there was a lady who'd leave me food sometimes. Can't find her anywhere though. Have you seen her?”

 

Now that Prunelle paid attention to him, and the smells under the dirt and scents that made him fairly sure he had been diving in trash, he didn't seem all that healthy, and he was fairly sure he was smelling dried blood too...

 

The intruder stumbled a bit.

 

”Um, are you okay?”

 

…

 

”We're home!” Fantasio announced, stepping inside carrying grocery bags.

Instead of their cat running to greet them and to find out what treats were in the bags a wail echoed in the flat.

 

”Prunelle?”

 

Fantasio entered the living room to find their black cat sitting next to the sofa. He gave an another loud meow.

 

Fantasio lifted him up. ”What's wrong?”

 

That's when he spotted the grey tail peeking from underneath the sofa.

 

”So, you just left the grocery bags in the hallway?”

 

Fantasio turned to Spirou. ”I think there's an another cat underneath the sofa.”

 

He set the black cat down.

”Come and give me a hand.”

 

Moving the sofa out of the way didn't get any reaction from the dark grey tabby that had curled up under it.

”It's not dead, is it?”

 

”No, I don't think so. But it's obviously not well.”

 

Carefully and wearing gloves, Spirou lifted the strange cat. ”We need to take it to the vet.”

 

 

…

 

Prunelle watched his humans take the intruder away.

 

So, that was probably it.

 

Still, this all just meant extra work for him.

Now he had to make sure his scent was back in all those places the intruder had touched.

Somehow he had, inbetween eating all his food and fainting under his sofa, marked the armchair, and it took a while for Prunelle to decide how to deal with it.

 

On the other hand, if he put his smell on it now his humans would think he had accepted the chair, but if he didn't they'd think it wasn't his.

Eventually he marked it, but only _slightly,_ hoping it would get the message across.

Just when he was satisfied, the door opened again, and the familiar carrier was back.

 

As was _him_.

 

He was very silent, though.

And when Prunelle tried to get close to him he was lifted up.

”We'll let him sleep a bit in peace, right?”

 

And the carrier was taken to the bedroom and the door closed after.

 

Even after Prunelle told them to open the door, he was left out.

 

…

 

”I asked around.” Spirou told Fantasio. ”Apparently it's a stray. Hortense, you remember the old lady who used to live few blocks down? She used to leave food out for him sometimes, but now that she has moved to an old folk's home...”

 

”So... Are we going to keep him?”

 

”Do you want to?” Spirou asked. ”Prunelle could probably use company, now that you're not working from home anymore.”

 

”We don't know how tame he is yet.” Fantasio reminded him. ”He's been living in the city, who knows if he trusts humans. The poor thing had been hurt by something too. It might not adapt to a life of an indoors cat. But let's see.”

 

Carefully, he stroked the sleeping tabby. ”What are we going to call him? At least for now?”

 

”How's 'Gaston'?” Spirou suggested.

 

”Why Gaston?”

 

”I don't know. Just sort of looks like a Gaston to me.”

 

”Gaston it is, then.”

 

…

 

Finally Prunelle was let in the bedroom.

 

”Gaston.”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

Prunelle hesitated a bit. ”That's your name now then.” He told the cat laying on the bed.

 

”Okay.” He reached out to rub his head against Prunelle's humans, and was petted in return.

Which all annoyed the older cat.

 

”So these are my humans now?”

 

”No. Mine.” Prunelle's tail twitched in annoyance.

 

”Pfft, you can share. Oh they are nice! You can lean on them and they don't try to kick you or anything.”

 

”What? Of course not.” Maybe he was just saying that for sympathy. But he had been wandering outside, and outside was really dangerous.

Prunelle divided the world in two parts; there was his home that was all in order and nice and safe, and the great outdoors that was full of chaos and danger and occasional visits to the vet.

 

And now a part of that chaos had apparently decided to claim his home for himself.

 

Eventually Gaston jumped to the floor and decided to explore the house a bit more.

 

Prunelle followed him, staring disapprovingly but saying nothing until he jumped on the shelf and curled up on the bed.

 

”That's my bed.” Prunelle told him.

 

”You weren't sleeping on it.” He sniffed the bed. ”You haven't in for a while!”

 

”It's still mine.”

 

”Relax. You have other places to sleep.”

And he just fell asleep, completely ignoring the actual owner of the bed.

 

…

 

”Hey, what's this?”

 

Before Prunelle had time to answer, the vase from atop of the bookcase fell to the floor, shattering to pieces.

 

”Rogntudjuu, Gaston! You dropped it!”

Why had he been left alone with him?

 

”How was I supposed to know what it was otherwise?”

 

”And now the floor is wet and full of dangerous shards!”

Hopefully he wouldn't be blamed for this.

 

”You're exaggerating, it only cracked. Be glad, it was useless anyway, too difficult to drink from. And the flower tasted bad.”

 

”That's not the point. There is a lot of stuff that's just there. It's a human thing. Don't drop anything! And don't try eating weird stuff.”

 

”Phuh.” He jumped down. ”So, how do you get out?”

 

”What?”

 

Gaston looked at him like the older cat was an idiot. ”Outside. I want to go and check the dumpster behind the house where that big dog lives.”

 

”You don't need to find your food like that anymore.”

 

”Yeah, but you never know what interesting stuff you'll find. I once found half of a whole chicken with feathers and all.”

 

”Bleh!”

 

”You can come with me. I'll show you.”

 

”No.”

Although... If he was so keen on leaving, who was Prunelle to try to keep him there? If he wanted to spend his days hunting for dirty scraps of rotten food, let him!

 

”I can tell you how to get out.”

 

”How?”

 

”But it will make _my_ humans really mad. They probably won't let you back in. Actually, they will probably want you to leave anyway, since you dropped the vase. And after what you did to the potted plant.”

 

”That was their fault. If they don't leave a window open for me to get out, what else was I gonna do?”

 

”There's a box for that!”

 

”Same difference. So, are you going to tell me how to get out?”

…

 

Spirou had just opened the door and was stepping in, when his foot almost hit the grey cat dashing outside, taking full advantage of the open door.

 

”Hey!”

 

The cat didn't stop, and was far gone in the hallway before the human ran after him.

”Gaston!”

 

He didn't catch him in time, and with the main door open, the cat was soon gone.

 

…

 

Prunelle curled up on the bed, safe in the knowledge that no-one would be trying to claim his places now, even if he wasn't using them.

 

So, time for a nap.

 

But sleep eluded him. It had been two days since Gaston had left.

 

He was fine. Probably. He had been fine before, hadn't he? And now he was well-fed and healthy.

 

What was the worst that could happen?

 

Actually, he could think of many things...

Gaston could be kicked, or run over by a car, or eaten by a dog, or get some creepy disease from dumpsters...

 

No, he'd be fine.

 

Really.

 

…

 

Spirou hadn't learnt his lesson, and was again unprepared for the cat dashing out when he opened the door.

 

”Prunelle!”

 

He ignored the call, trying to remember how you got outside. It wasn't too often he left his home, but he could remember the smells and ran to the main door.

Only to find it shut.

 

Luckily someone opened the door, letting him out.

 

And he stopped.

 

There were so many smells, and wind was blowing making all the smells even more confusing, and he could hear a dog, and a car, and this was a horrible idea what had he been thinking?

 

Even though it was also a _bit_ interesting...

 

Just in case, he hid under a nearby bush to think of his next move. He had been planning on simply following Gaston's scent, but now that he was actually outside, there were so many things he didn't know where to begin.

 

Maybe he could smell him, a bit? But where to go from here?

 

”Prunelle! Pruuuneeeelle!”

 

He almost went back, but in the end sneaked to a small alley close by. If he was Gaston, where'd he go?

Into a dumpster, probably. He should try to find the ickiest worst-smelling flea-infested place he could. That's where Gaston would be, probably rolling in the dirt, or being kicked around or something.

 

The ground felt wet under his paws, and he shuddered.

”Gaston!?” He called, trying to find a balance between actually audible and something no murderous dog or a car would hear.

 

Something crashed behind him, and he bolted, running away in a blind panic.

 

Eventually he stopped.

 

He had no idea where he was, or how to find Gaston, this had all been a horrible idea.

Prunelle turned back, but was faced with somekind of a two-wheeled car that made a horrible tooting noise that scared him again, driving him even further away from his home.

 

After being almost run over by a car, and eaten by at least one dog, he stopped, completely exhausted. He couldn't go back the same way, but maybe if he tried to circle around?

 

And hope he'd find some clue as to Gaston's whereabouts.

 

Although at that point he'd be just happy to find his way home.

Prunelle started walking, since just staying middle of the road was bound to get him killed. Although he couldn't really decide if the small alleys were any safer. There were less humans there, so they were likely filled by all kinds of monsters, but on the other hand...

 

He remembered what Gaston had told him.

 

He couldn't trust the humans he didn't know, they might just try to kick him.

So when a human tried to approach him he slipped through a hole in a fence and found himself in a small yard.

 

And there was a familiar smell.

 

He smelled the tree. He was fairly sure he could smell Gaston.

He jumped a bit at the barking sound, but didn't immediately bolt this time.

But he could see and smell a dumpster, and there was a house with a dog, and the only lead he had was that Gaston had mentioned something about this kind of place.

 

Walking a bit closer confirmed that the dumpster had Gaston's scent on it.

”Gaston!”

Prunelle jumped on the dumpster, and looked in just in case he hadn't heard him. But the metal box was Gastonless.

There was barking again, this time closer, and to his horror Prunelle saw a huge dog running towards him.

 

The only thing he could think of to avoid the beast was to jump in. Maybe if he'd just stay hidden, the monster wouldn't find him. He certainly shouldn't be able to _smell_ him. He retreated into a corner, trying to appear as small as possible and waited.

 

The surrounding metal made all the sounds coming from outside sound odd, and when he heard the metallic scratching sound, he was sure the dog was coming for him-

 

”Hey!”

 

He looked up and spotted the grey face looking down on him. ”What are you doing in there?”

 

”Gaston!? I hid here from a dog! Is it gone?”

 

”He's harmless. Oh, did you find anything interesting down there?”

 

”No!” At least Gaston was fine. Although now Prunelle was feeling foolish for even worrying about the idiot.

 

”Phuh, I'm pretty sure I can see half of a sausage.”

 

”It's wet! And it smells, and I'm trapped in a dumpster and EVERYTHING IS HORRIBLE!”

 

”You're exaggerating, I found a dry cardboard box this morning. Oh, you gotta see it, I can let you sit in it!”

He disappeared.

”Gaston!”

 

The head was back. ”Mmhuh?”

”I can't get out!”

The dumpster was almost empty, so he didn't even have much trash to climb on.

 

”Pfft, of course you can. You can jump, right?”

 

Prunelle bounced, getting a grasp of the side before falling back in when his claws failed to get hold on the metal.

”It didn't work! And I landed in something sticky!”

 

”Try again, then. What do you expect me to do about it?”

 

Well, he was probably right. So Prunelle tried again, this time having a better idea how far he had to jump, and after some difficulty he managed to pull himself on top of the dumpster.

 

”You smell.” Gaston informed him.

 

”OH DO I!?” Prunelle shook himself in the hopes some of the icky stuff would end on Gaston.

 

”Come on, then.”

 

”What? Where?” But Prunelle followed him, deciding to trust he probably knew the safe places.

 

He led him to an alley between too houses.

”You sleep here?”

 

”For now.” He nudged his head towards the small cardboard box. ”Go on, I'd love to hear your opinion.”

 

Prunelle sat in it. Well, it was a box, and it was far cleaner than he had feared. However...

 

”It has large holes in it.”

 

”Yes, that's my idea. I chewed parts of it off.”

 

”Why? Now there's less box.”

 

”It makes it more aerodynamic.”

 

”Gaston, don't make up words. But it's... nice. Although I prefer the boxes at home that-”

 

That reminded him.

”Gaston, we need to get back home.”

 

”I went back, the door was closed. I told them to let me in but no-one came.”

 

”We can try again. You're coming back, right?”

 

”I dunno. I'm not sure if I get back out again.”

 

”It will be fine. But do you know how to get back?”

 

”Of course.”

 

…

 

”Prunelle!”

Fantasio picked his cat up, relieved he was safe.

 

”I told you,” Spirou said, ”Cats know how to find their way back home. And-”

He reached to pet the tabby rubbing against his legs. ”It looks like he brought his friend back.”

 

”Prunelle hasn't done anything like this since he was a kitten. Maybe Gaston's a bad influence on him.”

 

”Nonsense.”

 

Fantasio wrinkled his nose.

”And he is badly in need of a bath.”

 

 

…

 

Finally, after the water-torture that made Prunelle regret coming back ended he was let out of the bathroom.

Only to find Gaston laying on his bed. Again.

 

Prunelle jumped to the shelf to stare down at him.

”I'm completely wet and it's your fault.”

 

”Pfft, it's not.”

 

Well, maybe no, but he wasn't going to admit that.

Prunelle pushed against Gaston, hoping it would drive him away.

 

It didn't, he ignored the wet fur and just moved a bit, making room for Prunelle.

 

Not that it was bad.

Actually the warm body next to him when he started grooming himself was nice.

 

So Prunelle bunted him, rubbing his head against him.

”Mmhuh?”

 

”Nothing.”

 

If Gaston was going to claim his home and his humans for himself, then he'd just claim Gaston was his and a part of his home.

 

So it would be fine.

 


	16. During their morning rituals (also Prunelle is a vampire)

Gaston took the kettle off the stove.

 

Should be about body-temperature. Maybe a bit hotter since it had time to cool down.

 

He poured the red liquid into the coffee mug and walked to the archives.

 

It would have been difficult to spot the route if you weren't aware it existed, but with a lamp in other hand and the mug in other, Gaston slipped through the stacks of books and magazines with the certainty of someone who did this every morning.

 

Eventually he ducked into the cavelike chamber hollowed out inside the mountain of paper.

He set the mug and the lamp down on the small table.

 

The room, or a chamber rather, had few pieces of furniture, the table, a simple chair, and of course the coffin.

 

Gaston knocked on the coffin. ”Morning!”

 

No response.

 

Not that he had expected that, it was only rarely that Prunelle could be roused so easily.

So Gaston opened the lid, revealing the sleeper inside.

No, calling it 'sleep' felt wrong.

 

Even though he had gotten used to seeing Prunelle like this, the complete stillness, the glazed over eyes and the deathly paleness and the fact he was fully clothed really made it look much more like death.

 

”Prunelle!”

His attempts to shook the vampire awake were unsuccessful.

 

So, one of _those_ mornings.

 

It seemed like being awake during the day was completely unnatural for a vampire, and Gaston couldn't really understand why he was so insistent on trying to preserve the daily rhythm he had followed before dying and subsequently rising from his grave as undead. (Presumably by resurrecting himself through pure stubbornness to make the magazine meet the deadline.)

 

Well, at least he couldn't complain about Gaston's sleeping habits anymore.

 

”Come on, rise and shine.”

Gaston grabbed him underneath his arms, and pulled him to a sitting position, propping him against the lid of the coffin.

 

Finally, Prunelle twitched, starting to show signs of unlife.

 

Good. He wouldn't have to resort to pouring blood in his mouth, at least.

Now that the editor was starting to become aware of his surroundings, the smell of fresh blood should wake him right up.

 

He blinked his eyes, making them look, if not exactly alive, at least animated.

 

”Morning.” Gaston greeted him.

 

”Morning.” Prunelle responded, suddenly fully awake, as if he hadn't been practically dead or even sleeping just seconds prior.

He rose up, closed his coffin and sat down on the lid and Gaston reached to give him his morning blood.

 

He took the mug with a thankful nod, eyes flashing red.

 

Gaston sat across him, taking a look around. ”You know, if you're gonna be really living here from now on, maybe you should do something with the place? Get some furniture? I could help you get electricity.”

 

Prunelle downed his drink in a single gulp, and licked his lips. ”Hm, maybe. This was supposed to be a temporary solution, but I really like it here. It feels... nice and safe.”

 

”Sorta like a grave, right?”

 

”Erm, maybe. But having a bookshelf and a proper table wouldn't hurt.”

 

Gaston was just about to leave, when the editor spoke. ”Although I have been thinking, that maybe I shouldn't...”

 

”Shouldn't what?”

 

Prunelle set down his mug.

”Gaston, you warm my food every morning. What does it smell like?”

 

”Um, I guess it smells like blood? People told me that as far as my cooking goes, it's pretty normal, so probably appetizing?”

 

”I see.”

It looked like he was going to say something more, so Gaston sat down and waited.

”I thought that it was basically just... Unrecognizable, and I took it with me several days last week, planning to pretend it was coffee and drink it in my office. But I think it made some people uncomfortable.”

 

”Well, it doesn't smell like anything I'd drink.” Gaston told him, unsure what he was getting at.

 

”And I have to keep the windows closed during the day, and I don't think Lebrac really appreciates it. Few days ago he wanted to see what his painting looked like in natural light and he was already opening the blinds when he remembered that would, well you know.”

 

”Set you on fire? Maybe you should wear more sunscreen?”

 

”I'm not sure if that would help. And in any case, it's not just my skin, but my hair too-”

 

”Then wear hats. And jackets and gloves. It probably will get kinda hot in the summer-”

 

”Not really, since I no longer have body heat.” Prunelle pointed out.

 

”Problem solved, then.”

 

”But that's not all. It's not just those things, I think people might sort of feel uncomfortable with me around. I'm pretty sure Jef never used to wear a crucifix around his neck, and maybe it's just that my sense of smell is better these days, but Lebrac sometimes smells like garlic and I can't tell if that's because something he just happened to eat, or if he's thinking...

And I can't really blame them. Even if I try to be normal, I still... For example, do you remember when that latest experiment of yours exploded and startled me and I kinda accidentally turned into a bat?”

 

”Yeah! You were really cute. You should do that more often.”

 

Prunelle gave him an odd look and muttered something about at least not having blood pressure anymore.

 

”Why would anyone feel uncomfortable with you around?” Gaston asked.

 

”Well, I am _undead._ ”

 

”Pfft, barely.” Gaston wasn't really sure how to put it into words, and the best he could do was: ”I mean, you're _Prunelle_.”

 

The vampire stared at the office boy for a while before seemingly coming to a conclusion.

”I guess people can get used to me.”

He shrugged. ”The people working in this office have gotten used to _you_ after all. And I think I'll stop trying to act exactly the same way as before. I'll change offices, and start dressing in a way that won't light me up like a torch if someone opens a window.”

 

He smiled, giving Gaston a good look at his needle-sharp fangs.

”I guess it won't be too bad.”

 

Gaston returned the smile. ”See? You should try relaxing a bit.”

 


	17. Spooning (Part 4 of the teenage AU)

These teenage dorks again.

 

...

 

 

”Léon.” Gaston patted the empty place next to himself on the bed. ”Come on.”

 

”Next to you?” He had already changed into his pyjamas and made the bed on the floor where he usually slept when spending the night at Gaston's house.

 

”You're my boyfriend, right? So why not sleep with me?” Gaston was fairly sure he blushed. ”I mean _sleep_ sleep, not-”

 

”Yeah, I know. If you think there's room...”

He took his pillow and laid next to Gaston.

 

”It's nice, right?”

 

”If a bit cramped,” Léon noted. “I mean, it's wide enough for cuddling, but not really for two people sleeping. But yeah, nice. Should I take my own blanket or should we share?”

 

He didn't wait for answer, just pulling his blanket from the floor.

However, Gaston wormed his way under it, pushing against the other boy.

“Goodnight.” 

 

Léon kissed him. “Goodnight.”

 

…

 

When Gaston woke up in the small hours of the morning, his back was warm and something was wrapped around him.

 

The first thought his sleepy mind conjured up was that the vampire octopus living under his bed had crawled out and was eating him.

Luckily before he put in motion the anti-vampire octopus plan he had come up when he had been six he remembered that firstly, vampire octopuses didn't exist, and even if they did they'd stalk their prey in water.

And secondly, that the arm draped over him and the hot breath at his neck belonged to Léon.

 

He was maybe a bit too warm, but not too uncomfortable.

 

But...

 

Gaston realized something hard was pressing against his back.

He had a fairly good idea what it was.

 

He lay completely still, trying to think.

 

Léon was sleeping, so it wasn't like he had meant to do that.

And even if he had, well, they were dating, so that sort of stuff would come into play at some point, right?

So far they had just kissed, and Gaston had been happy with that.

 

Although he'd be lying if he claimed the thought of going further hadn't grossed his mind.

 

The kinds of thoughts that circled his mind now and made him happy no-one was pressing against his front.

 

But he wasn't even sure Léon really wanted to, he was asleep and-

 

Léon mumbled in his sleep and shifted, grinding against his butt in the process.

 

And startled Gaston retaliated, the way he had trained as a kid in the case of nightly octopus attacks, and elbowed the sleeping form.

 

Léon fell off the bed with an ”EAGH!”

 

Confused, he sat up on the floor. ”What?” He took in his surroundings. ”Where did I fall from?”

 

”I had a nightmare!” Gaston told him. ”I thought you were a vampire octopus.”

 

”You're still afraid of those? They don't even exist. Definitely not under your bed.”

 

”I know that! It was a nightmare! I didn't mean to.”

 

”Maybe I should sleep on the floor.”

 

”No. Climb back. It's fine.”

 

”You're sure? I don't want to get pushed out again.”

But he climbed back in.

 

”I won't.” Gaston gave his boyfriend a soft kiss. ”Promise.”

 

He got a sleepy smile in return. ”Goodnight.”

 

Gaston watched him close his eyes and drift back to sleep.

 

It was fine. At some point they'd start doing those kinds of things, but not yet.

 

For now he was happy with just having him there.

 

A/N: I would like to point out that while vampire octopuses are purely fictional, vampire squids ( _Vampyroteuthis infernalis_ ) do exist, and that they do infact live under _your_ bed.

 


	18. Hogwarts AU

Doing something together? How about BEING WIZARDS!? (Hogwarts AU)

 

 **Rating:** Little eleven-year old twerps. Also there's a talking hat.

…

 

 

 

Léon Prunelle had been eight years old when Gaston Lagaffe had quite literally fallen into his life.

 

He had been playing in the backyard, when something had crashed into his mother's flowerbed.

This something had then turned out to be a shaggy-looking boy about his age.

”Phuh, so, that didn't work, then...” He had said to no-one in particular, spitting out a mouthful of pelargoniums.

 

Léon had just stared, trying to figure out how he had fallen from the clear blue sky.

Eventually he had just asked. ”Wait, where did you come from?”

 

”Well, I tried fixing Aunt Hortense's old broom. Sort of a success, I guess. It never flew _this_ fast before.” At that point he had realized who he had been talking to. ”Um, you're not a muggle, are you? Uh, just forget about this.”

 

But of course Léon hadn't forgotten about it, and the next time he had seen the boy the curiosity had gotten the best of him and he had followed him.

Only to be almost eaten by something that resembled a lion, a goat and a few snakes all rolled into one creature, but that was, according to the odd boy: ”Mostly harmless. And called Annie.”

 

At that point it had become clear to Léon there was something very wrong with the boy who introduced himself as Gaston.

 

But, against his better judgement, he had been curious, and that curiosity had led him to hang around him, and letting Gaston drag him into his weird world.

 

And he had learned there were all kinds of things in the world that normal people like him had no idea of. Chimaeras (some of them called Annie), and witches and wizards, and _magic._

 

And that the odd house on the hill that was rumoured to be haunted was, when you looked at it just the right way, full of life and warmth, and where you could enter if you knew just the right words when stepping through the gate.

And that it was a resting point for all kinds of strange cargo, often bizarre magical animals, and Gaston was right in there helping his aunt with them and the strange guests that stopped on there on their journey to eat and drink and feed their animals.

 

Or monsters, rather. There were the gnomes, or the occasional chimaera, or a fire-salamander, and weirder things, like invisible horses Léon couldn't see, but that Gaston assured him were very cute (you know, for skeletons) or a mermaid carried around in her tank drinking tea with the witches and wizards.

 

Once Léon had even been woken up middle of the night by Gaston to come and see a caged dragon.

 

And then to his shock, when they had been eleven, a Hogwarts owl hadn't come just for Gaston, but for Léon as well.

 

Which had led to them now sitting in the Hogwarts express, travelling towards the school.

 

Léon watched his friend, who was sleeping on the other bench opposite of him. He hoped he could be as relaxed. Well, this was all more or less familiar to Gaston, who had known about all these things since early childhood.

Although his attitude was too happy-go-lucky even so...

 

Léon, however, was more and more certain him being there was a huge mistake.

He couldn't actually be a wizard, right?

 

He pulled his wand out of his pocket, eyeing it suspiciously.

All he had gotten out of it had been few sparks.

Which was fairly unimpressive compared to how the moment Gaston had waved his he had almost set half of the shop on fire and turned Mr. Ollivander's eyebrows green.

 

He was wondering if he should try a spell, something simple, but in the end he tucked the wand back.

Instead, he returned to reading his schoolbooks, to have some kind of an idea what to expect.

 

The other boy stretched. ”Are we there yet?”

 

”No.”

 

He sat up anyway. ”Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled something from his pocket, which turned out to be a mouse. ”Do you want the mouse or the cat?”

 

”What? Neither.”

 

”Well, not for real! But students can bring one pet, and I'm bringing Kitty and Cheese, so I'm gonna need you to say one of them is yours. So which?”

 

Léon supposed a mouse would be less trouble, in case he'd end up actually taking care of it. ”Cheese.”

 

Gaston smiled, putting the mouse apparently back to his pocket.

”So, which house do you think you're gonna be in?”

 

”House?”

 

”Phuh, you know? At the school. I'm guessing Ravenclaw, since you're always nose deep in books. Like now.”

 

”I have to try finding out more about the world which I'm apparently a part of now.” Léon reminded him. ”I don't know most of these things, like what a ravenclaw even is.”

 

”Well, don't worry about it, they'll tell you.” Gaston smiled. ”I already know what house I'll be in though. It's obvious, right?”

 

”I have no idea.”

 

…

 

”That's a talking hat.”

 

”Yeah, so?” Gaston asked.

 

”Well, I guess it's not that weird then? But is it going to read your mind?” Léon asked, nervous at the idea. It couldn't be legal, right?

 

Before Gaston had time to respond, he was called to the front.

As soon as the hat touched his head it announced ”GRYFFINDOR!”.

 

Léon supposed it had been obvious, then. With most people the hat seemed to take much longer.

 

His turn came way too soon for his liking, and the walk to the front of the crowd wasn't made any better by the ”Good luck!” from Gaston that echoed in the huge hall.

 

And then the hat was dropped on him, too big for his head, pushing his glasses down his nose.

 

”Hmm, let's see.” It said, in a voice that echoed inside of his head. ”I can see a desire for control over others, but I don't think you'd do well in Slytherin, considering... So that's out. I can see you have a good head on your shoulders, but you're also a hard worker, so you'd do well in either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but which...”

 

”Gryffindor.” He thought, and was surprised when the hat responded.

”Hm? You're asking to be sorted there? Hmmh, your friend... But I'm completely honest with you, you don't really have the qualities required.”

 

”I'm not sure if you can ask to be put into a specific house, but...”

He stopped for a moment to think of his case.

”It's not just that he's the only person I know here. But he needs someone to look after him, okay? I mean, have you any idea how many times I have already have to pull him out of trouble? And that was before we arrived to a place that's going to be full of all kinds of magical creatures he will run off to befriend.

I mean, Gaston's ability to cause explosions even without magic _baffles_ the Ministry of Magic. And now you're gonna give him all kinds of magical incredients? He's already looking forward to the Potions class.”

 

”Hmmmm.” The hat rumbled. ”I'm sure the teachers here are well equipped to deal with him.”

 

”But they don't need to. I mean, I could probably keep him out of trouble most of the time, and I'd- Well I'd like to.”

 

”Hmmm, if you're certain. Although I think I might see how'd you fit in Gryffindor after all...”

 

”Erm, I'm sorry if it was out of line asking for this.”

 

”Don't worry about that.” There was a low rumble that was almost like laughter. ”Your friend outright told _me_ what house to put him in.”

 

Before Léon had time to respond, the hat announced ”GRYFFINDOR!”, and was lifted from his head.

 

A bit stunned, he walked to where Gaston was sitting.

”Hey, you got in too! Well done!”

 

Léon mumbled in reply.

 

Gaston leaned to whisper in his ear: ”Guess what I heard? You'll love this! I hear there's a giant squid living in the lake!”

 

This had all been a horrible idea.

Asking to be sorted to the same house, agreeing to come to this school at all...

No, befriending Gaston had been a horrible idea from the start.

 

And the fact that he was completely unable to regret any of those decisions was making Léon more and more certain there was something wrong with him.

...

 

 

A/N: I got the feeling Gaston (especially as a kid) would just go ”Yeah, the main character house. Put me in there.”

 

A/N2: Gaston in a potions class. I actually feel sorry for Snape.

 

A/N3: Gaston and Hagrid would become great friends.

 

A/N4: Léon and Gaston would then go to save Hogwarts from numerous catastrophes. (All caused by Gaston.)

 


	19. In formal wear (Part 5 of teenage AU)

These teenage dorks again.

(Well, I guess Fantasio isn't a teenager at this point but he's still dork.)

 

...

 

”Hello,” Léon greeted Gaston's aunt, ”I'm here to, you know, get Gaston.”

 

Aunt Hortense nodded with a smile. ”He's getting ready.”

 

”Hi!” Gaston greeted him.

 

”You look... You look handsome.”

He did. The old-fashioned tailcoat fitted Gaston's slender form nicely, and since he had made an actual attempt to tame his hair and stand straight he looked suddenly much more adult.

 

”Hmh, you too. Wait.” Gaston brought his hand to his boyfriend's smooth cheek.

”You've shaved your beard off.”

 

”It looked untidy.”

 

”I liked it.”

 

”Maybe I should wait until I can grow a proper beard, it looked sort of splotchy. But I'll grow it back.” He took Gaston's hand. ”Come on, we shouldn't keep Fantasio and Jeanne waiting.

 

”Fantasio!” Gaston waved at the blond few years older than him.

 

”Long time no see.” Fantasio nodded.

After graduating high school he had despite his good grades, instead of even trying to apply to a university travelled throughout Europe with his cousin, hitchhiking, and had only recently come back.

 

”You're not dressed all fancy,” Gaston pointed out. Not that the blond was looking untidy, he always had paid a lot of attention to his looks, but the white dresshirt was far from the formal wear the two younger boys were wearing.

 

”I'm not actually coming to the dance, I'm just here to give you a lift.”

 

Jeanne waved from the front seat. ”We should get going.”

 

As Léon and Gaston took their places on the back seat, she added, ”You two look great.”

 

”You knew I would,” Gaston pointed out. ”She helped me fit the coat, and with my hair.”

 

Léon nodded. ”It looks good.”

 

”You need to tell me where your date's house is,” Fantasio said from the front seat. ”Bertrand, right?”

 

”He's not really my _date_ date,” Jeanne told him, ”He's a friend, and since neither of us had anyone to go with... Turn right here.”

 

”Well, it's not like you have to take your boyfriend or girlfriend to the school dance,” Fantasio pointed out, ”I ended up going with my _cousin._ I couldn't get a date, agreed to go with Spirou despite him being a year junior, but he got sick and somehow I ended up dragging Zantafio with me to the school. He mostly stood in the corner looking grumpy and was eventually thrown out for smoking.”

 

”How is Zantafio?” Léon asked, more to make conversation than anything. He had only known Fantasio's cousin through him, and since he had been several years older, they had never really had anything in common.

 

”He is- fine.”

There was something about the reply that felt odd. And now that Léon thought about it, Fantasio had returned from his trip alone. Had something happened to Zantafio?

 

Maybe Fantasio realized how it had sounded, since he added ”We had some disagreements, so we parted ways. It's no big deal.”

 

There probably was more to it, but not like it was any of his business.

 

…

 

”Come on,” Gaston said, starting to pull his boyfriend back to the dancefloor.

 

”No, I'll sit this one out.” He really should have paid more attention to what kind of shoes he wore.

 

Léon had a feeling his toes were on fire.

”Go on, dance with someone else. People are starting to switch pairs anyway.”

 

”Mmh, I guess. I'll go ask Jeanne if she wants to dance.”

 

Léon retreated to the backroom, trying to find a place to sit and take his shoes off.

 

To his surprise he met Fantasio. ”Since when have you been smoking?”

 

The older boy extinguished his cigarette. ”A bad habit I've picked up. I'll need to quit.”

 

Léon sat next to him. ”Are you... Okay?”

 

”What?” He seemed surprised. ”I'm fine, just, you know, nostalgia.”

 

Léon nodded, not really certain what he meant.

 

”It's sort of weird, how you know someone all your life, and they turn out to be something completely different than you thought.”

 

Léon wondered if he should try saying something. ”Okay.”

 

”Don't mind me. I shouldn't be spoiling your fun.”

 

”No, it's fine.”

Although, he couldn't help being shaken.

Fantasio shared Léon's passion for writing, but had always been much better at it than him. Better at everything, really.

 

So seeing him like this was bit of a shock for Léon who had always assumed Fantasio would always know what he was doing and had it all figured out.

 

But it probably wasn't so easy...

 

”Oh, here you are!” Gaston waved, almost dragging Jeanne with him.

 

”I just needed a little break,” Léon told him. He turned to Fantasio with a small smile and bowed. ”May I have this dance?”

 

The blond seemed surprised, but took his hand with a smile and followed him to the dance floor.

”Why not?”

 

…

 

”Gaston.”

 

”Hmmm?”

 

Léon wasn't sure if them sitting in the backroom, resting a bit between dances was the best time and place to tell him, but he'd have to. And he wanted Gaston to be the first person to know.

”I just found out.”

 

”What?”

 

”That I've been accepted to the university to study literature.”

 

”So?”

 

”Hm?”

 

”I knew you would. So, are we gonna move to Brussels, then?”

 

Léon hesitated. ”But what about your plans? Your education?”

 

”What about it?”

 

”What are _you_ going to do? You still haven't even attempted to-”

 

”Pfft, it will be fine. Fantasio hasn't either.”

 

”You could, Gaston. Why don't you try studying computer programming? You're good at that. I know it wasn't on purpose, but no-one still isn't sure how you made a virus that made half the computers in the school catch fire simultaneously.”

 

”I like that stuff, yeah, but I dunno.”

 

”And you can fix things! And make clothes, even.”

 

”Hmh, not sure. I'm not gonna study the same stuff you will, so I'd rather get a job or something. And fix things.”

 

Well, Gaston was right. He had time to decide.

 

”We will move together, though? What about your pets?”

 

”Kitty will be fine in the city, and so will Achilleus.”

 

”It will... Probably work,” Léon admitted.

 

”Phuh, of course it will.” Gaston slipped a hand around Léon's waist and pulled him close. ”You'll see.”

 

Probably it would be.

 

Léon thought of what it would be like, being a proper adult.

 

Because now that he thought about it, he suddenly felt uncertain. Moving to the big city, starting university, moving in with his boyfriend, it was all a bit much.

 

And he'd have to worry over all these things, because Gaston wouldn't.

 

But it wasn't like he didn't want to or anything.

 

And maybe it would be fine, even if he didn't have it all figured out right away?

 

Yes, it would be fine. (As long as he had thing figured out a bit more than Gaston did, at least.)

 

He allowed himself to imagine how they'd be some years from now on, living together, married, maybe they'd adopt children, at least have lot of cats, he would have a writing career, and Gaston would maybe have some sort of workshop...

 

Maybe it would all end up differently.

 

They'd just have to see where they'd end up, one step a time.

 


	20. Dancing

”So, shall we dance?”

”Rogntudjuu, Gaston, I have work and you're dressed like a cactus!”

”So?”

”No.”

 

 

 

”So, shall we dance?”

”Gaston, was it Lebrac who convinced you it was a good idea to dress up as a snail?”

”Yeah.”

”Snails aren't exactly known for their great dance-moves. So no.”

 

 

 

”So, shall we dance?”

”You're a toadstool? Wait, let me check if you're poisonous.”

”What does that have to do with whether you'll dance with me or not? So?”

”No.”

 

 

 

”So, shall we dance?”

”Rogntudjuu, Gaston! Your petrol pump costume is leaking oil everywhere!”

”I'm going to take that as a 'no.'”

 

 

 

”So, shall we dance?”

”Blech! What are you supposed to be? An octopus? Even if I was going to say yes, which tentacles of your costume I'd even hold?”

”Whichever you want. There's eight to choose from.”

”I'll choose none of them.”

 

 

 

”So, shall we dance?”

”A chimney? How would I even dance with you like that?”

”I dunno. You always find a way though.”

”Not this time. You're hardly mobile, I'd have very little to work with.”

”Pfft. We both know you'll tell me 'no', but always end up dancing with me anyway. So, what you're gonna say?”

”... …... Shall we dance?”

 


	21. Cooking

It was one of the tragedies in life how the truly brilliant people were never appreciated in their own time.

 

Although Jeanne had to admit, maybe Mister Prunelle had a point _this_ time.

 

But still, Mister Gaston hadn't meant to fill the office with the thick black smoke.

 

And it was already dissipating anyway by the time Jeanne got there.

 

”I just thought it would be interesting!” she could hear Mister Gaston protesting.

 

The smoke was still hanging thick in the mail room, but Jeanne didn't need to see who he was yelling at to have a pretty good guess.

 

”Rogntudju Gaston, I've told you to stop cooking at the office!”

Of course it was Mr Prunelle. Poor Mr Gaston.

 

It seemed the editor had finally found the window, and soon all the smoke was gone.

He turned to Gaston, to continue yelling at him. ”And strawberry jam curry? Why!? Not even something normal!”

 

”I just thought it might...”

 

Jeanne could see he was feeling uncomfortable, so she steeled herself and stepped in. ”Mister Prunelle?”

 

”WHAT!?”

 

Jeanne jumped back, startled at the sudden outburst targeted at her.

 

At least this seemed to calm Prunelle down.

”Sorry, Jeanne, I didn't mean to yell. What were you saying?”

 

She hadn't really thought it through. She wanted to tell him he should appreciate Gaston more, but it felt like the words were stuck somewhere in her throat and the best she could do was ”Nnh?”

 

”Don't worry, it's all fine now,” Prunelle told her. He turned to address rest of the gathered onlookers. ”Nothing to see here, it wasn't even a proper fire, back to work, people.”

 

Apparently satisfied, the crowd started to wander off.

 

Jeanne stared at the retreating back of Mr Prunelle, regretting how she hadn't been able to speak her mind.

 

She turned to see Gaston looking at something with an odd look on his face.

”Are you okay, Mister Gaston?”

 

”Mmhuh? Yeah, it's fine.”

But there had been something a bit weird about his expression.

 

 

…

 

Gaston barged into the office where Jeanne worked. ”Miss Jeanne, I need you!”

 

”W- what!?”

 

”It's an emergency!” Gaston all but dragged her to his room.

 

It didn't look like he was hurt, and nothing seemed to be wrong in the mail room...

An empty teacup was pushed at her.

”Is this a cup!?”

 

”What?”

 

”A cup,” Gaston repeated. ”Is this a cup?”

 

”Y-yes, I think?”

 

Gaston pulled a cookbook from somewhere. ”This talks about 'cups'. So that's fine?”

 

”Oh, you mean _that._ Wait, don't you cook a lot?”

 

”Well, yeah. But I've never used a recipe like this. Mostly I've just learned from watching my aunt cook, and then from experimenting myself.”

 

”So, what you're making?”

 

”A strawberry cake.” He glanced at her. ”That's just really 'normal', right?”

 

She couldn't really pinpoint it, but there was something weird about him today. Maybe he seemed nervous?

 

”Normal? I guess. Anyway, when it comes to amounts like a 'cup' what's important is how the different amounts scale. How big you want the cake to be?”

 

”Oh. So I could make a really small cake, just for two or something-”

He blushed slightly. ”No, let's make a proper big cake, for the whole office.”

 

Jeanne wanted to believe he was thinking of sharing the cake with her, but she didn't think that was the case.

Who, then? Aimée was friends with Gaston, but she was dating Lebrac. Sonia, maybe? Or Suzanne?

 

”Are you making it for an occasion?” she asked.

 

”What, no. Not really. Maybe a bit.” He looked around conspiratorially. ”Don't tell anyone, it's gonna be a surprise, but it's for the anniversary tomorrow.”

 

”The anniversary for what?”

 

”Phuh, for when Prunelle took over Fantasio's job.”

 

”Oh.” Jeanne felt foolish. So he was just being nice to his boss.

 

He bit his lip. ”I was thinking, smoking makes your sense of taste a bit weird though, right?”

 

”What?”

 

Gaston shook his head. ”Nothing.”

 

But there was something a bit off here...

…

 

”SURPRISE!”

 

Prunelle stared at the gathered crowd. ”What?”

 

Gaston had managed to make most of the office to come to the party in the largest office. He had even borrowed a gramophone from somewhere, so they could dance.

 

Gaston ran to Prunelle. ”Congratulations, I made you a cake.”

 

Jeanne held her breath, but to her relief the editor seemed more puzzled than angry, and didn't protest when he was dragged to cut the cake.

 

And Gaston seemed so happy too!

 

Actually... The way he was smiling at Prunelle, and how he pulled the older man to the dance floor eager to dance with him, it was almost like-

 

…

 

Jeanne couldn't believe it at first.

 

But she started paying attention to Gaston around Prunelle.

 

How his face lit up when he saw the editor, how he'd drag him along to see his newest inventions, how when he was upset with Prunelle it seemed so personal...

 

Why _him_?

 

Even if it had to be a man, if Gaston was like that, why _Mr Prunelle_ , of all people?

 

The person who didn't seem to do anything else than yell at him, someone who didn't appreciate Gaston, or see how brilliant he was.

 

It was really just a bad idea all around. Maybe it was just a childish little crush.

 

But she didn't know what to do with this information.

 

…

 

 

Gaston seemed happy.

 

”You're baking again?” Jeanne asked, setting down the papers she had been asked to bring to the mail room.

 

”Yeah, I think I'll use blackberries this time. It's fine if I don't follow the recipe to a T.”

 

”You... Are you making this cake just for two?” Jeanne asked.

 

”Maybe.” He smiled. ”But I'm not gonna tell you who I'm gonna-” He trailed off, blush intensifying.

 

”It's Mister Prunelle, isn't it?” She blurted out.

 

He looked startled, and Jeanne immediately regretted letting him know she knew.

 

”N-no? Mmmh.”

 

”You like him, don't you?”

 

”He didn't want anyone to know.”

 

Jeanne tried to keep the shock off her face. She had guessed Gaston had a crush on his boss, something that maybe could just be admiration, but was it actually more than that?

 

”Well, it's fine, you didn't tell anyone, I found out on my own” she said, hoping it would ease his mind.

 

It seemed to work and Gaston smiled. ”Yeah, it's okay, right?” His smile widened. ”He's really cute, isn't he?”

 

”I haven't really thought of Mister Prunelle like that.”

 

She was shocked, and there was more than little bit of heart-break, but...

 

”Have you seen him without his glasses? He looks sorta weird, but he took them off, when we-”

Gaston stopped, smiling again.

 

But he was happy.

 

”He is sorta annoying sometimes, though. Like when he told me not to tell anyone we are a- I guess we're a couple.”

 

”I can see why he wouldn't like people to know.”

 

”Phuh, he just worries too much.”

 

Jeanne wasn't too sure about that.

But...

 

”You can talk to me. About... those things.”

Maybe it would be nice for him to have someone who he didn't have to try to keep in the dark about all of this.

 

So she could be there for him.

Maybe it wasn't in a way she had hoped for, but it would be fine.

 

She liked him, after all.

 

And someone would have to make sure Mr Prunelle treated him right.

 


	22. Fighting side by side (Apocalypse AU)

**Rating:** Some slight gore, kinda depressing I guess.

 

...

 

 

 

Prunelle clutched his shotgun. ”What do you think it is?”

 

Gaston glared at him. ”Rogntudju Léon, are you planning to shoot first and ask questions later?”

 

Prunelle did a double-take at that.

Although it probably wasn't surprising the younger man had been picking up the vocabulary of the only person he had really talked to in months. And using his first name was probably appropriate, seeing how they had been thrown into this situation, surviving together in this changed world, only able to rely on each other.

 

And, well, after certain things sharing body heat in colder nights had led to...

 

”Of course I'm not.” Prunelle told him.

He wasn't planning to waste the few shells they had. He had counted 22, but some of them had gotten wet when they had crossed the latest river, and he wasn't about to risk trying them before it was completely necessary.

 

He peered at the shape scurrying somewhere between the ruins. He was starting to become more and more certain moving towards the city had been a mistake.

 

He and Gaston had been travelling on the countryside when the world had ended.

 

Luckily they had found refuge in a nearby cellar from the firestorms, and had been already moving towards higher ground when the floods extinguished the remaining unnatural fires.

 

But there had been other hazards wiping out humanity.

They had happened upon a small village that had looked untouched at the first glance. Until they had stumbled upon the first of the bodies.

Whatever had killed the village had come fast, everyone seemingly simply fallen to the ground simultaneously dead.

”They didn't suffer, at least.”

That had been all Prunelle had managed to say, and they had broken into one of the houses to restock on supplies in complete silence, and then left, not saying anything beyond that.

 

Prunelle had speculated it had been some kind of toxic gas that might return, and in case neither of them had any intention of staying in that ghost-village.

At least the canned foods they had acquired there hadn't been poisonous.

 

They had come across few people, all moving away from the city, either hesitant to talk much or too eager to ramble on about things that might or might not have happened.

 

And it seemed like the odd creatures and weird plants were more and more numerous the closer they came to Brussels, as if Mother Nature had focused her anti-human warfare on the areas that most resisted her.

 

But did they really have any other goal?

 

They had agreed in the very beginning to try returning there, to try to find any friends or relatives that might still be alive.

But as they got closer Prunelle was starting to worry more and more over what they'd find there. At least now they could pretend everyone they knew had somehow escaped and was hiding in safety.

Although seeing how many buildings were completely covered by vines and crushed by giant trees that had somehow grown to gigantic proportions in weeks, it was likely they'd be unable to even find any ruins, let alone bodies...

 

He spotted movement again. ”Gaston, stay close to me.”

 

”Léon, that's not the only one.”

 

With horror he realized there were shapes the sizes of huge dogs scurrying all around them.

 

Even Gaston understood their situation and pulled the hatchet from his belt.

One of the creatures stalked closer, giving Prunelle a good look at their brown bodies covered by shaggy fur. Some kind of giant rats. They had come across them before, but not as a pack.

 

On their own they seemed timid, and had been easy to scare off.

One that had been braver and more aggressive had been quickly disposed off by a shotgun blast.

 

Gaston had refused to talk to him for a day after that, insisting that it had just been curious.

 

Well, Prunelle thought, now he'd better get over his hesitation or they were as good as dead.

And at least Gaston had the sense to move close to him, back to back.

 

They stood there, with the pack of predators circling them.

 

Finally, one of them bounced, and before Prunelle could react he was pushed to the ground.

However, before the yellow rodent-like teeth sunk into his flesh a hatchet was swung with surprising fury, sending pieces of the monster's skull flying.

 

However, it was stuck, and Gaston stumbled, trying to pull his weapon free.

Leaving him vulnerable, something one of the rats was eager to exploit.

 

A shot echoed.

”Gaston! Are you all right!?”

 

The younger man stumbled away from the second rat that had been hit by a shotgun blast while trying to attack him.

A blast that had only wounded it. Still, it seemed like it couldn't move at least.

Prunelle looked around. And the noise had scared the rest of them off.

 

”Prunelle!” And Gaston was okay. But looking like he was in shock. ”Prunelle! You have to-” He gestured towards the wounded rat that was screaming in pain. ”At the very least, put it out of its misery!”

 

Prunelle opened his mouth to tell him that he wasn't going to waste their ammunition on something like that, and getting close to the beast to finish it with the hatchet or by bashing its head in with a rock was not safe.

But one look at his partner's expression, and all those perfectly logical reasons seemed to melt away.

 

Another shot, and the creature's head was mostly gone, and after few twitches, it was dead.

 

It had been stupid, but...

”Thanks.”

Gaston looked like he was going to cry.

Over a mutant rat that had tried to eat him.

 

It wouldn't be the last animal they'd have to kill.

And that wasn't the worst of it.

There were other humans around, resources were limited, so what if someone decided they were an easy target? What if they were attacked by fellow survivors?

How would Gaston's pacifism help them then?

 

But-

 

He hugged Gaston, letting him weep into his jacket.

”Gaston, never change.”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”Nothing. It will be fine. It will all be fine.”

That was probably a lie, but maybe it was a lie he could believe if he repeated it enough.

 


	23. Arguing

 

 

What led to it wasn't important, it had been just one of those catastrophes that were part of the daily life in the _Spirou_ editorial offices.

 

And it was a simple sentence.

 

Instead of getting red in the face and yelling at Gaston, Prunelle sighed, sounding defeated, ”Why do you always have to be like that?”

 

”What?”

 

Instead of answering, the editor turned to leave.

This wasn't right.

 

Gaston dashed after him and grabbed his shoulder. ”Wait!”

 

”What?”

The look he gave him was angry, Gaston was fairly sure, but...

 

”I'm not always like this!” Was the best he could think of.

 

”Lagaffe, I have had a very bad day, and I just don't feel like dealing with you right now.”

 

Gaston wasn't sure why that felt so bad, but why would Prunelle say something that hurtful?

” _Dealing_ with me?”

 

”Every day I have to, in addition to my _actual_ job, babysit a grown man who should know better.”

 

”That's not true!”

 

”Probably not, actually. You certainly don't act like an adult most of the time so I have no idea why I keep trying to treat you like one.”

 

The tone of his voice was harsh, but he hadn't raised it. Gaston was desperate to get some kind of a normal reaction out of him. If he'd just act like he should, if he could get at least one 'rogntudju' out of him, it would all be better.

 

”You have never appreciated me!” It was something Gaston had told him before, even yelled at him in anger, but it felt like he had never meant it the way he did now, and he had never gotten the response he did this time.

 

”So why are you still working here then?”

Before Gaston could respond, Prunelle was gone, and all he was left with was the feeling something had gone horribly wrong.

 


	24. Making up afterwards

Continuation to the last one.

 

…

 

 

”Why did you have a bad day?” Gaston asked.

 

Prunelle looked up from his work. ”What?”

 

”Back then, when you... You said you had had a bad day.”

 

He had remembered that? Then again, Prunelle mused, he had immediately known what the younger man had been talking about, so what had happened had felt somehow significant for him as well.

 

But had Gaston really been upset over something he had said?

 

”It's not important. There was a problem with the printers and I had to make a lot of calls, and... I was just tired.”

 

”Prunelle.”

 

”What?”

 

”Do you actually wish I didn't work here?”

There was something about the question that felt significant.

 

So the editor thought about it. Sometimes he did. But overall, if given the option of an office without Gaston Lagaffe, and the one with him, he'd choose the one with the occasional catastrophe. Maybe he had just gotten used to him?

No, it wasn't just that.

 

He liked Gaston.

 

He enjoyed his optimism, and envied his idealism, and thought he was _interesting._

 

Even if he was also annoyingly oblivious, and his idealism was often tied with laziness, and well, there was a reason why 'may you live in interesting times' was a curse.

 

But still...

 

”No. I don't really wish you weren't here.”

Prunelle wondered if he was just imagining things, or if Gaston looked relieved at that.

 

”And I like being here, working with you,” Gaston told him.

 

Prunelle hadn't really thought of what Gaston's opinion of him was. He just seemed like he drifted through life with a vague affection for the humankind in general and obliviousness towards human beings and their feelings as individuals.

 

But that wasn't really fair.

And maybe he always came to Prunelle with his inventions because he actually respected his opinion in some way?

And maybe he had at times been harsher than necessary and maybe mocked his creations when he shouldn't have.

He wouldn't be able to build most of the things Gaston did.

 

He had been far more interested in his creations in the past, but lately...

 

Maybe he had just been too busy and stressed out?

 

”I just... Think you could do better.”

 

Gaston nodded.

 

”And I also think that...”

Prunelle wasn't sure how to put it into words.

”That a lot of the things you do, well, _most_ of the things you do, no-one else would or could. And...”

 

It wasn't exactly true that he didn't want him to change, and it felt like he owed him something better than half-truths.

 

”But I think most of those things are things that someone should do.”

 

He wasn't really sure if that had made much sense, or conveyed his feelings at all, but Gaston nodded again, with a slight smile that Prunelle didn't think he had ever really seen.

Not aimed at him, at least.

 

 

There was a feeling like they had agreed on something, and even if neither of them had a clear image of what it had been exactly, and even if nothing would drastically change, maybe there'd be more effort both ways.

 


	25. Gazing into each other's eyes

Gaston couldn't decide what colour Prunelle's eyes were.

There had been time when it had not mattered, and if asked he would have probably guessed they were black.

 

And then he had found himself in a situation where he suddenly realized he wanted to be intimately familiar with every single detail of his body, and he had found himself face-to-face with him quite a lot.

 

But to his dismay, the editor had the tendency to close his eyes when they kissed, and seemed always very embarassed when Gaston tried to stare deeply into his eyes, so it took him a while to come to the conclusion that they were, in fact, very dark blue.

 

However, that knowledge wasn't enough.

 

Gaston broke the kiss, pulling back. ”Wait a second.”

 

Prunelle lifted a quizzical eyebrow, but didn't otherwise react when Gaston reached for his glasses and removed them.

Gaston stared at him, and put the glasses back.

Only to take them off again.

 

Prunelle let this go on for a while before he asked: ”What are you doing?”

 

Gaston looked thoughtful. ”I can't decide if your eyes are more normal, more _you,_ with or without glasses.”

 

He had gotten so used to seeing him with glasses for all these years that seeing him without still seemed a bit weird.

 

But on the other hand, seeing him _without_ them felt like Gaston was getting closer to him, seeing a private side of him he didn't show just anyone.

And of course the times the glasses usually came off _were_ during the kinds of things he didn't do with just anyone.

 

”Does it matter?”

 

”Mmhuh? I think so.”

 

But did it actually?

He handed the glasses back to their owner.

 

”Maybe it changes, what way is more you? And maybe it's up to you to decide?”

 

He smiled.

”I love both.”

 


	26. Getting married

**Rating:** marriage, mentions of financial planning, being a house-owner and legal benefits of marriage. Mature themes, in other words.

…

 

 

”Rogntudjuu, I can't believe we are late.”

 

”Phuh, it's not like they can start without us!”

 

How had it come to this?

Them making their way towards their _wedding_ in the trashcan that Gaston kept calling a car.

 

Prunelle had made one plan after one another, and all of those seemingly fool-proof contingency plans had crashed and burned one after another.

 

Why had Gaston insisted on getting married on the countryside anyway?

No, that had been an obvious choice.

 

Prunelle hadn't really thought of his wedding apart from some vague images of some church probably. But after Gaston had shown him the ruins of a church from the middle age surrounded by the trees that seemed to separate it from the rest of the world, it had been very difficult NOT to imagine the ceremony taking place there, even if he could come up with many reasons why it was a horrible idea.

 

His biggest concern being that the church had no _roof_ , and it would be just his luck if it started raining middle of the ceremony, but at least that didn't seem to be a problem.

 

No, the couple would just be absent.

 

Prunelle reached for a pack of cigarettes.

He spotted the look his groom gave him. ”Please don't, Gaston. It has been a while since the last one, and I really need this.”

 

”Open the window at least.”

 

Prunelle did so, even if there already was an ever-present draft blowing through the car.

 

He wasn't sure why he was this nervous. Apart from the obvious, but that was the sort of constant layer of anxiety he had gotten used to when dealing with anything related to this wheeled metal bucket Gaston still insisted on driving a lot of the time despite their other car being vastly more reliable.

 

_Usually_ reliable, anyway. Of course it had decided to malfunction today.

 

He took a deep breath of his cigarette, happy that he had had the foresight to stash the package in the clove-department, anticipating that one of those times when he just needed to relapse back to his old bad habits would happen most likely in conjunction with this 'car'.

 

Yes, most of his anxiety should be over whether they made it in time.

 

It's not like this would even change anything in practice.

They already lived together, and did all the things married couples did, neither one would even change their last name. (Despite Gaston's attempts to convince him that 'Léon Lagaffe' had a nice ring to it.)

There were the legal benefits, but all that _really_ would change in their day-to-day life was that he'd have to introduce Gaston as his husband.

 

There was that odd feeling to his stomach again.

 

He wasn't getting cold feet, was he?

Having some irrational doubts over becoming a married man?

 

No, that wasn't it. He had no trouble imagining himself married, a house-owner, a responsible adult...

 

His gaze wandered to the younger man, and he suddenly knew what that odd feeling was.

 

He might not have any problem imagining himself getting married and living a stable boring normal middle-class life.

 

But all that didn't seem to fit with Gaston.

 

Prunelle realized there was a reason it had been Gaston who had proposed.

He just wouldn't have thought of it.

 

Because even after all these years, he had kept thinking that Gaston was, in some fundamental level, immature.

 

”Léon?”

 

”Hm?”

 

”Are you okay? You seemed a bit...”

 

”No, I was just thinking.”

 

But that had been wrong, hadn't it?

 

He had grown up. The boy that had clung to adolescence and even childhood and steamrolled through life oblivious to the feelings of those around him _had_ started paying attention to people around him even when it was uncomfortable.

 

Instead of shrugging responsibility on others when it didn't suit him and just assuming someone (most likely Prunelle) would take care of everything, he _had_ started to take into account how other people had their own lives.

 

And he had started dating, moved together with his boyfriend, and was now getting married...

 

But Léon had been so in love with just the idea of being the mature one in the relationship he had ended up avoiding or the very least not pursuing all those things. Because if he wasn't sure if he was ready for them, how could Gaston possibly be?

 

So it had been Gaston who had taken almost all of those difficult steps. It had been Gaston who had initiated the relationship, who had first suggested they'd move together, the one who had proposed...

 

And really, now that Prunelle was thinking about it, Gaston had been dropping hints he'd like to have children for a while now.

Hints which Léon had ignored, thinking Gaston wouldn't be ready for that kind of responsibility, not yet.

 

But that wasn't true. Gaston was great with kids, had always been, and he really would make a great father.

 

It was _himself_ he was uncertain about.

 

And he realized that Gaston, with his pets and odd habits and idealism and experiments had grown up more than he had. In some ways at least. There was a reason Léon did their financial planning.

 

The so-called car stopped.

 

”See? We're here. And practically not even late.”

 

”Gaston.”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

Léon had no idea how to put his realization into words.

Not by telling him he'd like to have kids, that was the kind of conversation they should have when they weren't running late from their own wedding.

 

”I love you.”

 

”Yeah, I know. You _are_ going to marry me.”

 

Léon returned his smile.

”Yeah, I am.”

 

...

 

A/N: It's not like I've paid much thought to weddings either, but the church my parents got married is very nice, from historical point of view if nothing else, so I just used it here.

 


	27. On one of their birthdays

Rating: Birthdays

 

...

 

RRIIINGG!

 

Prunelle woke to the alarm, set to half an hour earlier then usual.

 

”Mmmmh?”

 

”You can still sleep,” Prunelle told the sleepy form beside him. ”I'll wake you up when you need to.”

 

With a mumble, Gaston turned to his side to continue his sleep.

 

So, at least he didn't seem to be planning a morning surprise.

 

And when Prunelle rose up to prepare for the workday he couldn't smell anything weird either.

 

This year he was planning to avoid any birthday surprises.

 

Just in case he checked under the bed, the kitchen, and the closet.

 

Nothing. Nothing too out of the ordinary at any rate.

 

Gaston was then probably planning to surprise him at work.

 

He shook the sleeping form gently.

”Morning, Gaston, time to wake up.”

 

The younger man stretched. ”Mmhmorning...”

 

Prunelle had ended up making breakfast for both of them, although that was how it usually was. Even after Prunelle had managed to get his partner to follow a sensible daily rhythm the younger man usually had his (or rather their) pets to feed and take care of in the mornings while Prunelle made them breakfast.

 

But today Prunelle had had time to feed Achilleus and their two cats before Gaston even woke up.

 

Prunelle bent down to pet the orange cat who was apparently doing her best to leave all her hair on his trousers.

Gaston had wanted to get a cat that would be as much Prunelle's as Gaston's, and despite the fact that Gaston tended to be the one to feed her Tangerine had still somehow taken a liking to Prunelle, and showing it mostly by having the habit of claiming his lap as her sleeping place when he was reading.

Or his side of the bed.

 

When they had moved together one of Prunelle's conditions had been that the bedroom would be a no-pet zone.

 

That had lasted for all of two weeks.

 

Prunelle looked up from his breakfast.

 

Gaston didn't say anything...

 

Not even something about how he should have been the one to make breakfast today.

 

So, it would happen at work then.

 

…

 

They arrived to the office in time. It was always a bit difficult to estimate how long any journey would take with the alleged car Prunelle hadn't managed to convince Gaston to trade for something sensible, (yet).

 

But this time they were exactly on time.

 

So Prunelle braced for a surprise when stepping to the office.

 

Nothing.

 

Bizarre. Usually Gaston had something prepared for when he stepped into the office, even if he had also been planning something else in the morning.

…

 

”Léon.”

 

Prunelle had been so busy he had almost forgotten, but when Gaston came by his office to remind him it was time for lunch, he was immediately on alert.

 

He stood up. He should take a break anyway, and he was getting hungry.

”Let's go eat out today,” he hurried to suggest, planning to avoid any special cooking.

 

Gaston just nodded. ”Yeah.”

 

That had been easy. ”You didn't cook today?” Prunelle asked.

 

”I've been busy with other stuff, mostly trying to train the seagull not to attack tortoises.”

 

Prunelle could only wish that would end up being a failure. The only reason Gaston didn't even try to take the gull home was that she would try to eat the tortoise, or at least bully the poor creature who'd refuse to leave his shell as long as the bird was around.

And while keeping the bird out of the office was appealing, Prunelle preferred their house gull-free.

 

”If you wanted something home-made you should have told me in advance,” Gaston pointed out.

 

”No, no, it's fine,” Prunelle hurried to assure him.

 

”So, where do you wanna go?” Gaston asked, to Prunelle's surprise.

 

”There's a new Palombian restaurant few blocks down, it just opened.”

 

Gaston didn't even pause to argue they'd go to some other place.

 

So, at least he'd be able to eat lunch in peace.

…

 

Prunelle had decided to stay away from the mail room, just in case.

 

But he found himself walking there anyway.

Well, just walking to the trap was better than the uncertainty.

 

He should just get it over with.

 

Prunelle opened the door, carefully, anticipating possibly a fanfare. Maybe an elephant.

 

But all he found was Gaston sleeping.

The editor stared at his partner, wondering if he had fallen asleep and forgotten.

 

And if waking him up was a good idea.

 

Nevertheless, he gently shook his shoulder.

 

”Gaston?”

 

”Mmmm?”

He opened his eyes, and smiled. ”What?”

 

”You slept well enough last night. I know.”

 

Their relationship was a completely open secret, but Prunelle was nevertheless insistent on keeping anything romantic or sexual out of the workplace.

 

And Gaston knew this full well.

But Prunelle couldn't help tensing a bit when Gaston stood up, wondering if the birthday surprise he was planning was of _that_ kind.

 

But he just dragged Prunelle with him to show him something.

 

He gestured at the green thing Prunelle couldn't identify. ”See?”

 

”See what?”

 

”The seagull's training! I made this replica of Achilleus to get her used to him.”

 

”It seems to be missing its head.”

 

”Hm, well, she threw it out of the window. And tore its head off.”

 

”So, I take it it's not going well.”

 

Gaston started explaining something about his training plan. Prunelle sighed in relief.

 

…

 

”Oh, happy birthday.”

 

Prunelle turned to look at Lebrac. ”What?”

 

”It's today, right?” the artist said.

 

”Hm? Yes, now that you mention it.”

 

It wasn't like Prunelle and Lebrac got presents for each other, but these days they usually did remember each other's birthdays.

 

If just because Gaston did.

 

But the artist returned to his work, not saying anything about how it was weird the day was almost over and he hadn't been dragged into some 'surprise' party.

 

And Prunelle didn't mention it further.

 

It wasn't like it mattered.

…

 

”Wait, you missed a turn,” Prunelle noted.

 

”No, I did that on purpose, I'll need to go get something.”

 

So, this was going to be it then. After work, when they were driving home.

 

They stopped somewhere on the main street.

 

”Wait here,” Gaston told him.

 

It didn't take him long to return, and a brown paper package was pushed on Prunelle's lap.

 

”What's this?” He removed some of the wrapping, and was faced with a fishy smell.

Which was typical of Gaston's cooking.

 

”Don't open it yet.”

 

”Sorry.”

 

The next stop turned out to be their house.

 

Gaston held out his hand.

 

”Give it to me,” Gaston told him when Prunelle looked confused.

 

”This?”

 

The package was taken from him, and once they were inside Gaston unwrapped it to reveal a raw fish, which summoned their two cats immediately.

 

”Oh, it was for them.”

 

Prunelle watched Gaston feed Kitty and Tangerine.

 

So, he had forgotten?

 

He really should have felt relief over it.

 

”Gaston?”

 

”Hm?”

 

”Do you remember what day today is?”

 

”Do you mean weekday? Wednesday. Or your birthday.”

 

”You remembered.”

 

”What? Of course I did.” Gaston sounded almost offended.

 

”But you didn't...”

 

”Well, last year, you made me promise not to do anything for you next year. To just pretend you had no birthday, actually.”

 

”I did?” Prunelle didn't remember anything like that. Sure, he had very likely yelled at Gaston about it, but he hadn't expected he'd remember it a whole year later.

 

”Yeah. After, you know, the fire.”

 

”You need to be a bit more specific than that.”

 

”Half of your hair got burnt off,” Gaston reminded him.

 

”That was my birthday?”

 

Gaston nodded.

 

”So you...”

 

Gaston kissed him. ”Happy birthday.”

 

”Hmm, it's not that it's important...”

 

”I didn't get you anything.” Gaston grinned. ”Come on.”

He pulled Prunelle towards the bedroom.

 

”I guess I just have to improvise.”

 


	28. Gotham City AU

'Doing something ridiculous' describes approximately 95% of my writing. Well, I guess this is slightly more ridiculous than usual?

**Gotham City AU**

 

...

 

 

When you got wrongfully fired from your job at a publishing company over something that really was the fault of the office boy more than you, there were two courses of action you could take:

 

Make an official complaint, try to find a new job and move on with your life.

 

Or, you could, seeing how this was Gotham, become a supervillain.

 

This is how Léon Prunelle had ended up sitting on a rooftop (obviously a safe distance away from the edge) wearing a domino mask and thinking how he should not be allowed to make major life-choices at three in the morning after having few beers.

 

He stared at the sleeping city. Well, to be honest, this city never slept, but at these early hours in the morning it was groggy and possibly hungover, at least.

 

So far his life of crime and vendetta against the publishing company hadn't been going all that well.

 

The biggest blow he had struck against them so far had been when he had taken all the pens in the office with him after being fired, and clogged the photocopier on purpose.

 

Both things he had done technically before even becoming a supervillain. (But he was counting them as wins anyway.)

 

He wasn't very good at this, was he?

Maybe he should work on his imago? Get a gimmick of some kind?

 

Dress like an animal?

 

So far he had decided that if suits were good enough for The Riddler or The Joker they were good enough for him, and had just donned one of his suits for these kinds of things, and stuck a pair of contact lenses in his eyes because glasses didn't go well with masks.

 

And during his only (more or less) successful heist he had broken into Mr. Mesmaeker's apartment, planning to rob him as revenge and possibly spray paint ”I don't care if you sign them anymore” on his wall, but he had been interrupted midway through and had escaped the apartment in panic, dropping most of his loot on the street.

 

Well, at least he had been chased by a police officer, who had yelled after him ”What pseudonym I'll put down on my report!!?” So that had been officially his debut as a career criminal.

 

Although he should have probably thought of some name in advance. So put in the spot, all he could think of was to yell ”I'm an editor!” And ”Sorry!”

 

Well, 'The Editor' wasn't the worst possible alias. This was, after all a city that had characters named 'Joker' and 'Scarecrow' and 'Bookworm' sowing fear into the minds and hearts of people.

Well, some more than others, but he had met Bookworm when the villain had taken over the editorial offices he worked in as a part of a convoluted scheme, and he had been a fairly pleasant fellow.

 

You know, apart from that whole holding you as a hostage thing.

 

But it was sort of disappointing that Prunelle had started this new career deciding to turn his life around, only to be called exactly the same as when he had been, well, _not_ a supervillain...

 

At least it should be easy to come up with puns and quips.

”I'll edit you out?” No, that sounded incredibly dumb.

 

”This is my doom ray. I call it the 'editorial mandate'”?

 

Maybe he just wasn't insane enough for this line of work?

And he wasn't really keen on getting into fights with super-heroes either.

He had been planning to just run away, but someone like Batman could probably run a lot faster and longer than a lifetime smoker who had kept his stamina up mainly by playing football with friends from work once a week.

 

Now that he thought about it, getting into this line of work would probably mean he'd get punched by Batman or maybe Robin or some other superhero eventually.

This had all been a mistake.

 

Prunelle had just decided to turn his life of crime around, return his loot (which had been mostly forks) and never mention this to anyone, when a voice called behind him.

”HELLO!”

 

Prunelle jumped. ”Rogntudjuu!”

 

He stared at the other man.

It seemed that unlike him, he had no issue over looking ridiculous, putting together a costume that looked very much like he had rolled in glue and then ran through a flea market.

 

And he looked familiar...

 

”Hello, citizen!” He tried again. ”Sitting on rooftops is dangerous!”

 

”Lagaffe?”

It was the office boy from work!

 

”I do not know who this 'Lagaffe' is, you must be mistaken!”

 

At least now he was making an effort to change his voice. Sounding like he had something up his nose, but still, it was an effort.

Prunelle wondered if he had broken some sort of superhero/villain conduct. Maybe you were just supposed to pretend you didn't know who anyone was?

 

”Oh, sorry. You're obviously not him. I have no idea why I'd think that.” He gave a wave. ”I'm, well, I'm The Editor. You might have heard of me.” Not very likely, but that was probably the sort of stuff you were supposed to say.

He hurried to add: ”That's my alias, not my job description, by the way. My other job is something totally different.”

_Technically 'unemployed'..._

 

”Wait, you're a hero too?”

 

”I _am_ wearing a mask. Also I'm actually a villain.”

 

”Okay, then, let's go.” Lagaffe took his hand and tried to pull him up.

 

Prunelle refused to budge. ”Let's go where?”

 

”I'm taking you in. Nothing personal, but you know, you being a villain, me being a hero...”

 

”Taking me in for what?” Prunelle demanded to know. ”For sitting on a roof? You didn't actually catch me doing anything illegal.”

 

”Oh.” He sat next to him. ”Okay then.”

 

He seemed to realize something and stood up, doing his best to strike a pose. ”Wait! I just realized I never introduced myself! I'm The Green Arrow!”

 

Prunelle gave him an unimpressed stare. ”So... Did you just come up with that, thinking it sounded kinda cool, and never bothered to check if there already was a hero named that?”

 

”No, I'm pretty sure I came up with that.”

 

”Are you even using arrows?”

 

”Well, no. I sorta wanted to sound ecologically minded, but not too similar to Poison Ivy, so 'Green' and then 'Arrow' just sorta fit with it.”

 

”Uh-huh.”

 

He sat back down. ”I let you in a secret. I'm actually pretty new at this. Hard to believe, I know. I recently lost my job, and figured, why not become a hero?”

 

”Ah.”

 

Well, at least he had been fired as well.

 

”And, I don't want to brag, but did you hear about all the parking meters in this part of the city being destroyed?”

 

”That was _you_?” At the very least that was more impressive feat than his career so far.

 

The hero nodded proudly.

 

”Are you sure you're not a villain?”

 

”Phuh, of course not! Parking meters are! Villanous, I mean!”

 

”Okay then.”

 

Prunelle stood up, not really sure if he wanted to continue this conversation. After all, Lagaffe might ask what impressive things _he_ had done...

”I think I should get home.”

 

'Green Arrow' saluted. ”Maybe we'll see again? We'll probably have to fight and stuff though.”

 

”Erm...” Prunelle stopped to think. He had been all ready to give up, but now...

The biggest problem he had was with the heroes, right?

 

But if he had a nemesis that was less scary than any of the big names...

Someone who had already been the cause of so much destruction and so many workplace accidents in his life that he had a fairly good idea what to expect...

 

”Next Thursday, sometime after midnight, the Gotham Printing Office.”

 

”Mmhuh?”

 

”I might be there. And I might be up to no good. Just... Mentioning it.”

 

He wasn't really all that sure this was the right career for him, but if Gaston Lagaffe thought he could do it, he could too.

Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad.

 

…

 

 

A/N: I sort of fear that Gaston's war against the parking meters might be taken the wrong way, and he'd end up being chased by the police anyway. And end up teaming up with Prunelle, so The Editor and Green Arrow (No, not that one) would end up being an utterly incompetent supervillain couple. But since their areas of incompetence wouldn't overlap all that much they'd probably do fine.

(Except that no-one could really figure out if they're heroes or villains.)

 


	29. Having a daughter

Sweet?

 

I guess having kids then.

 

 

 

…

 

”She's so small.” Prunelle tried to stay as still as he could, afraid he'd crush the fragile little human being on his arms, or maybe shake her too much.

 

He looked up from her.

”Are you sure you didn't take her out too soon? Is she supposed to be so tiny?”

 

”She is perfectly healthy for a newborn child,” The Count told him.

 

”And she is healthy, and, and normal?”

 

”She's a perfectly healthy newborn baby girl,” The Count repeated. ”And completely indistinguishable from a baby born the traditional way.”

 

“I just can't really believe it,” Prunelle told him.

He and Gaston had regularly visited the laboratory during the nine months their child had been growing in the artificial womb. But even still, it felt like he hadn't really been prepared for holding this tiny little human being who'd be completely reliant on him and Gaston for years.

 

”She made a noise!”

 

”Try not to worry so much,” Gaston told him. ”Here, let me.”

He took the child with much more certainty than her other father, and let her suck on the baby bottle.

Prunelle supposed it was better if he handled it, and set his hand on Gaston's shoulder, watching him feed their daughter.

 

”Do you have a name already thought out?” Fantasio asked.

 

”Olivie.” Prunelle told him.

 

…

 

”I'm home!”

 

Gaston set Olivie down. ”Come on, go to Papa.”

 

The girl stood still, staring at Prunelle.

But when he knelt down and called for her, she walked to him, almost stumbling.

”Hey, what has Papa's little princess been doing today?”

 

Olivie giggled when she was lifted up, and reached for Prunelle's glasses.

”Don't, be careful.” But he let her pull them off and turn them in her tiny hands.

 

His advice went unheeded, however, and the glasses were thrown across the living room with a ”Fooo!”

 

”That,” Gaston told him. ”She's been doing that a lot today.”

 

Prunelle wasn't sure if he should have scolded her.

 

”Mh, don't do that, Olivie. Papa needs those to see.” He tried to keep a gentle tone, and couldn't help smiling when his daughter reached to stroke his beard.

 

”Gaston, can you give me my glasses back?”

 

He set the glasses on Prunelle's nose. ”She has been throwing pretty much anything small enough for her to lift around.”

 

”You didn't let her into my study, did you?”

 

”No. Actually, it's now full of stuff that's there to be safe from her.”

 

”Can't you just lift them on a shelf or something?”

 

”No. If she sees it, she'll just stare at it and cry until she gets it.”

 

”You've been doing fine?”

 

Gaston nodded. ”Yeah, no problem. But I miss the office, I think I'll come over tomorrow.”

 

”Hm, she will-” Prunelle pulled his head (and so his glasses) out of her reach. ”No, honey.”

 

She started crying.

 

Gaston took her. ”It's fine, she was just startled.”

 

As far as Prunelle knew, Gaston was still fully employed at the office. Truth be told, the terms of his employment had always been a complete mystery to Prunelle.

 

But lately he had mostly stayed at home with Olivie.

 

Which, to be fair, meant far less catastrophes at the workplace.

And Prunelle preferred to keep his personal life and work separate as much as possible, so he wasn't too happy with the idea of turning the mail room into their personal day-care.

 

Although it wasn't exactly fair for Gaston to have to just stay home.

 

And given how careful he actually was around Olivie, there wouldn't be any chemical experiments, and he'd be busy with her...

 

And maybe it would be nice to have Olivie at the office. Even though Prunelle spent a lot of time with her in the evenings, he had still missed both her first steps and words.

 

It would probably work out fine.

…

 

”Léon!”

 

”Gaston, I'm sort of busy at the-”

 

A bunch of drawings were dropped on his desk by Gaston.

 

And a pencil was thrown at Lebrac by Olivie. ”Fooo!”

 

”Olivie, don't throw pencils at people. You wouldn't like it if Lebrac threw pencils at you,” Prunelle tried.

 

”It was just a little pen.” Lebrac stood up to get closer to the girl.

 

”Hello, Olivie.”

 

”Here, we can show uncle Lebrac too.” Gaston pointed at the drawings. ”Look, here's me. And in this picture she drew herself and you and me, you should put this on a wall of this office. Oh, and this is Jeanne and a typewriter. This is either the seagull or me again.”

 

Prunelle wanted to ask how Gaston knew. They all looked like similar scribbles to him.

Maybe he just didn't know what to look for?

 

”Oh, she's a little artist!” Lebrac told her. ”Aren't you? Will you be an artist when you grow up?”

 

”No!”

 

”Oh? What will you be then?”

 

She laughed. ”No!”

 

…

 

As soon as Prunelle stepped in, he was showered in little paper-clippings. Luckily, he had been prepared for _some_ kind of a surprise upon returning from his two-week trip to New York, and it took the plastic bucket falling on his head to coax a startled 'Rogn-' from him, cut short in time when he managed to bite his tongue.

 

”Well, that wasn't supposed to happen.” Gaston told him.

 

”Really, now?”

 

”I did that!” Olivie told him.”Daddy helped.”

 

”I'm sure he did.” Prunelle knelt down. ”Have you made sure everything was kept in order around the house while I was gone?”

 

The six-year old adjusted her still-new glasses. ”Yeah. Did you bring me Lady Liberty?”

 

”That's all she has been talking about for a week,” Gaston said.

 

”I couldn't find the kind you asked for.” Prunelle gave her the small souvenir statue.

 

She looked disappointed. ”What does it do?”

 

”I don't think it does anything. Kinda like the actual statue.”

 

”I wanted one that moves. I saw it on TV.” Olivie pouted.

 

”Couldn't find one. Olivie, what do you say?”

 

The girl nodded. ”Thanks.”

 

She smiled. ”I guess she can move in with Barbie and Godzilla anyway. She's sorta small though so they can be her parents. And she only comes alive at night. Also she eats bugs. She comes alive at night to eat night-bugs.”

 

”That sounds like a good idea,” Prunelle told her.

He stood up, only to be pulled into a hug by Gaston. ”Welcome home.”

 

Prunelle kissed him. ”It's nice to be back, the whole thing was a complete mess, they were-”

 

He was interrupted by their daughter who pushed in between them and took his hand.

 

”Come on, Papa.”

 

”Hm? Where?”

 

”I wanna show you something.” She stopped. ”You got paper in your hair.”

 

Before he could do more than shake his hair, he was pulled along again to her room.

 

”What do you think?”

 

”You've redecorated.”

 

The walls of her room had been painted olive green.

She smiled in the way that always made her look like a spitting image of Gaston. ”Yeah!”

 

”I'm guessing you and Daddy did this together?” There had obviously been two painters. Everything up to where Olivie could reach was painted much more unevenly, with strokes from a tiny brush.

 

”Yeah, Daddy helped.”

 

”She wanted to do it all by herself, but eventually she gave up and allowed me to help. Well, after trying to use a trampoline and a sprinkler first.”

 

”Like Daddy, like daughter, then... It's... okay.”

The room had already been mostly different shades of green, even before this. Prunelle had given up years ago trying to get her to wear other colours, or to accept different coloured things.

 

He gasped in mock horror. ”But what if we'll lose you here, when everything is green now?”

 

He lifted Olivie. ”Got you! I better not let go, or you'll disappear in the green! All green little girl, in an all green room!”

The dress she had insisted wearing for some time now was actually the exact shade of green the walls were now.

 

She giggled. ”No I won't! My hair's not green! Or my skin! Or my tongue, except when I ate that candy.”

 

Prunelle set her down and ruffled her already messy black hair. ”I guess you'll be fine, then. Just don't colour your hair green.”

 

…

 

”Gaston?”

 

”Mmh?”

 

Prunelle put away his book and turned to look at his partner who was sitting on the other side of the bed. ”Do you think Olivie resembles me at all?”

 

”Mmhuh? Obviously. She's like half you. Also glasses.”

 

”Well, I was thinking more along the lines of personality. It's not a bad thing, but I can't help thinking she takes after you more.”

 

”She is like you a lot of the time! Like when she got mad at those boys for hitting that dog.”

 

”I'm fairly certain she gets that from you.”

 

”I would have never _bitten_ them. Or for that matter, called them, hm whatever it was-”

 

”Geophagous annelids. And she didn't get that from me, she's just been reading the thesaurus again.”

He felt the need to add: ”Basically she called them dirt-eating worms.”

 

To be honest, Prunelle wasn't sure what it was that was making him anxious.

 

”But, I've been thinking. She's six now.”

 

He tried to catch the errant thought, and eventually realized what it was he was feeling nervous over. “Our little girl is going to start school soon.”

 

”Wait, you're worried over _that_? She'll be fine.”

 

”But what if she'll be bullied? Even ignoring the whole thing of having two daddies, well, she is brilliant, but sort of special.”

 

”How?”

 

”Do you remember when she was obsessed with collecting rocks? She'd fill her room with them, arrange them in piles according to colour and then start crying if someone messed up her system.”

 

”She was _four_. Kids play with stuff like that and you made her wash them all up before dragging them inside so what was the problem?”

 

”Or when she took all the clocks in the neighbourhood apart?”

 

”Curiosity is good. Next she just has to learn how to put them back together again.”

 

”She always wears the same skirt.”

 

”That's perfectly normal,” Gaston pointed out.

 

”Her best friend is a cat.”

 

”Phuh, so what? She'll make friends in school. She's great with others, don't you remember the time she got all the kids in the neighbourhood to join her archeology project?”

 

”Yes! Mrs. Saumon still keeps mentioning how she dug up her whole garden. And how I encourage my daughter to play in compost heaps apparently.”

 

”Ignore her. ”

 

”I do, but she keeps saying those kinds of things. Did you notice, she very pointedly brought up 'the issue of flower-theft' in the latest neighbourhood association's meeting? She is absolutely paranoid, keeps thinking someone has been stealing her flowers and was _very strongly_ hinting it was us, because her weeds have spread on our side! Anyway, Olivie is-”

 

”She'll be fine. She's half me, and I was fine, and half you, and you turned out fine. It's all genetics.”

 

Prunelle would have pointed out how that was not how genetics worked, but he was interrupted by Gaston kissing him.

 

Prunelle knew full well he was planning to just distract him, but it wasn't like he was opposed to the idea.

 

And what with his trip to New York, it had been two weeks since they had last-

 

Prunelle broke the kiss. ”What about Olivie?”

 

”She's sleeping.”

 

Prunelle pushed Gaston off of him. ”I'm still going to lock the bedroom door first.”

 

Just when he had finished saying that, the said door opened and their daughter ran in in her pyjamas.

 

”I had a bad dream,” she explained, climbing in and taking her place between her fathers.

 

”Papa just guessed you might come in,” Gaston told her. ”He must have telepathic papa-powers.”

 

Prunelle moved a bit to give her more room.

He wondered a bit if she was getting too old to sleep with her parents, but probably not.

She was still a little girl.

 

”You had a nightmare?”

 

”Hmm, something like it.” She pushed close to Prunelle.

 

'She missed you', Gaston mouthed behind her back.

 

”Olivie, what do you think of starting school soon?” Prunelle asked.

 

”I dunno.”

 

”Are you excited?” Gaston asked.

 

”Yeah.” She buried her face between the pillows.

 

“I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun,” Prunelle told her, hoping for the best.

 

“Yeah,” she repeated. Olivie lifted her head. “Papa, tell me a story.”

 

“What kind?” Prunelle asked.

 

“I dunno. It should be about Lady Liberty. She should find a mystery, and then solve it.”

 

“A mystery, huh?”

 

“Also she should have a cat. But one that's big enough to ride. But she could change the size of things, so she could make her cat small enough to fit in her pocket.”

 

“It sounds like you have a story already there,” Gaston pointed out.

 

She shook her head. “No. Papa needs to tell it, he tells better ones.”

 

Prunelle smiled. “So, Lady Liberty, then? How about a story how she became a Lady?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“She was born Miss Liberty, but then one day she solved a huge important mystery and was crowned a Lady.”

 

“Yeah, tell that.”

 

And so Prunelle told her the story of little Miss Liberty who embarked on an adventure, making it up along the way, Olivie making suggestions along the way.

 

And eventually Olivie fell asleep between her fathers.

 

And all was right with the world.

 


	30. Doing something hot

I had no ideas so I asked for inspiration and Raax gave me 'they fight a supervillain with firepowers', so, uh this happened. Dunno how much fighting there is with our heroes being these two nerds, but, eh.

 

Rating : It's dumb and written in one sitting and everything's on fire and I have no idea how to finish it but this is what would probably happen and it's dumb.

…

 

 

 

Over the years, Prunelle had become an expert in detecting impending catastrophes, so maybe it wasn't a coincidence he was the first person to notice the odd smell.

 

”Something smells like it's burning.”

 

Of course, he had no idea how bad it was going to be.

At the time he assumed it was just one of those minor catastrophes one working at the _Spirou_ editorial offices just had to get used to.

 

A small fire, maybe.

 

But definitely something that was Gaston's fault.

 

And when he followed the smell to the mail room, all signs indeed pointed to it.

 

At least until he noticed that the room was empty and the smoke was coming from the pile of today's mail he himself had delivered there just few hours ago.

 

And by the looks of it, Gaston hadn't even started working on it yet. Or in his case, hid it in the ever-growing pile on the other side of the room.

 

As Prunelle was trying to decide what to do, the small pile of paper on the desk suddenly caught fire.

The editor threw his jacket over it, and to his relief, he managed after some difficulty, to contain it.

 

”Mmhuh? Prunelle, what are you doing?”

 

Prunelle turned to glare at the office boy who had just walked in. ”What am  _I_ doing? This is all your fault. Somehow.”

 

Gaston sniffed the air. ”Have you set something on fire?”

 

Carefully, Prunelle lifted his (probably now completely ruined) jacket.

 

Whatever it was, seemed to still give off smoke.

And glow...

 

Hoping it wasn't anything radioactive, he poked it with a spatula that had been laying on the desk, and uncovered a small brown paper package that had almost completely burnt to ash.

 

It looked like it had been the source of this fire. And there was something glowing inside of it.

 

Some kind of a red shard of... something.

 

Prunelle poked it with the spatula.

 

…

 

The next thing Prunelle knew he was laying on the floor, Gaston's face hovering above him.

 

”What?”

 

And he was feeling a bit odd. Not exactly nauseous, but...

 

”What?” he repeated. It seemed appropriate.

 

”There was a flash of light, then you fainted,” Gaston explained.

”You're hot,” he added.

 

” _What!?_ ”

 

Gaston laid his hand on the editor's forehead. ”I think you have a fever or something. You're really warm.”

 

”I don't feel feverish.” Prunelle decided he should probably stand up.

 

He was feeling a bit shaky, but not ill exactly. Except his right hand that was slightly numb and reminded him one of those time he had gotten a slight electric shock.

 

Remembering what the last thing he had done before fainting had been, he looked for the red shard.

 

And found nothing. ”You didn't take it, did you?” he asked.

 

”Mmhuh? No.”

 

Prunelle's gaze found something else, however.

 

Carefully, he lifted the remains of what had once been Gaston's metallic spatula.

 

Almost like it had melted.

 

Prunelle poked the red glowing end.

 

It didn't feel hot.

 

And then the earth shook.

 

…

 

”Do you have any more change?” Fantasio asked.

 

Spirou shook his head. ”No, that's not enough?”

 

The blond gave a thoughtful glance at the line of pay phones. ”Hm, I can only hope. Did you ask the Count?” Fantasio looked around in the airport lounge. ”Where did he go?”

 

His question was answered almost immediately, as the white-haired head poked from behind the corner. ”I think you should see this.”

The two younger men followed him to the TV-set.

 

Spirou stared. ”What!? This is actual news? And not a movie of some kind?”

 

”Hm, yes, it seems Brussels is having the hottest summer day in centuries. Also a giant volcano appeared in the middle of the city.”

 

Fantasio ran to the phones. ”I got to call _someone._ ”

 

Spirou followed him. ”Who?”

 

Fantasio stopped to think. Then he cursed. ”I think I made a horrible mistake. At the very least I'll have to warn them.”

 

To his relief, eventually someone answered. ” _Spirou_ editorial offices.” It was, however less of a relief that happened to be Gaston. Well, at least he was fine.

 

”Hello? This is Fantasio, are you okay?”

 

”Hm? Yes. Although there was a sudden volcano, and no matter what Prunelle says, _that_ definitely wasn't my fault.”

 

”Can you get Prunelle on the phone?”

 

”Hmh, I dunno, he is sorta setting things on fire at the moment.”

 

Fantasio could hear a 'not on purpose, rogntudjuu!' in the background.

 

”Huh, Prunelle, did you know you could do that? Fantasio, he can breath fire, I never knew that. Wait a moment, what if I hold the phone for you?”

 

”Hello?”

 

It was somewhat of a relief to get a hold of Prunelle, but it sounded like they had run into some unexpected trouble.

 

”Léon? What's this about you breathing fire?”

 

”Um, I don't know. It mostly seems to be my hands, I sort of accidentally set Gaston's desk on fire, and now I'm afraid to touch anything.”

 

”Wait, you didn't open a package addressed to me, did you?”

 

”So it _was_ something that came in the mail? No, it caught fire by itself. Fantasio, what _was_ it? How do I get rid of this!?”

 

”It seems the shard has attached itself to Prunelle, apparently he is setting things on fire now just by touching them,” Fantasio explained to Spirou and the Count.

 

”And he is still alive? Interesting,” the latter remarked. ”Somewhat of a problem though.”

 

”Listen, Prunelle! That shard was a relic of an ancient civilization we found, we got chased, so just in case I mailed it to the office, thinking no-one would find it there and it'd be safe. But it seems something happened, the ancient machinery that laid dormant for millenia was activated.”

 

”I don't think I really follow.”

 

”These people lived deep, deep, underground, we have long thought they were nothing but a myth, but we managed to uncover proof of their existence. And how they managed to live surrounded by molten lava, or even inside active volcanoes.”

 

”This is really fascinating, but I'm not sure how-”

 

”They could manipulate thermal energy, by using an element only found in here, that's what the sample was.”

 

”Oh.”

 

”They also had advanced machinery, that could be used to mold the earth and molten rock, it seems like it has been activated.”

 

”You're going to come and take care of this, right?”

 

”Uh, sorry, we're sort of stuck on the other side of the planet at the moment, so, um, could you do it?” Fantasio asked.

 

”Wait, you're not saying-”

 

”What we found out was that the element was used to control the machinery. And if a volcano has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, well, it can't be a coincidence, at the very least you need to investigate.”

 

”What, _me?_ Nonono, aren't there people for this kind of stuff? The police- or AAEEGH-”

 

All Fantasio could hear was screaming and weird noises. Had they been attacked?

 

”Prunelle!? Are you okay?”

 

It was Gaston who answered. ”He can't come to the phone.”

 

”Why? What happened?”

 

”He sorta melted the floor and fell to the 4th floor.” There was another crash. ”No, make that the 3rd. Do you want me to go get hi-”

 

The phone cut off.

 

Fantasio cursed. ”I'm out of coins.”

 

…

 

The so-called car stopped.

”The road sorta stops here,” Gaston told his passenger. ”I can't get any closer.”

 

”Ah.” Prunelle swallowed. ”It looks kinda big this close.”

 

”And it's getting warm,” Gaston noted.

 

”I can't feel it,” the editor told him. Somewhere along the way the younger man had discarded his jumper, complaining about the heat, but Prunelle didn't even feel warm.

 

He stepped out of the vehicle. ”So, I guess...”

 

”Good luck”

 

Prunelle turned to stare. ”You're not coming with me?”

 

”Phuh, why would I? It's you who hogged all the superpowers for himself, what could I even do?”

 

Prunelle nodded. ”You're right.”

 

It was for the best.

 

”Excuse me, Sir.”

 

Prunelle turned towards the police officer jogging towards them. ”Yes?”

 

”Sorry, I have to ask you to turn back. This is a restricted area.”

 

”I can see why, but I sort of _have_ to go and see what's going on with that volcano.”

 

”No, Sir, the most sensible thing for you right now is turn back and let the officials handle it.”

 

”I actually completely agree with that,” Prunelle told him. ”But, um, you don't really get it, I promised to a friend of mine who knows a lot about weird stuff like this that-”

 

”He has firepowers so he's gonna go save us all from the ancient volcano machine,” Gaston interrupted helpfully. ”Also there's probably a villain or a monster he has to fight there,” he added.

 

”Gaston!”

 

”Well, you _are._ ”

 

”I just promised Fantasio to check it out, and what are you even talking about? A monster?”

 

”That's how these things usually go,” Gaston pointed out. ”It seems like a waste of a magical volcano that appears out of nowhere if it _doesn't_ have a monster or a villain that's hiding in there. And is maybe made of fire.”

 

”Okay, this is all very fascinating, this, um, _story,_ but I really have to ask you to leave.” The officer took hold of Prunelle's shoulder and turned him around, planning to escort him away from the restricted area.

 

Part of Prunelle really wanted to just leave. It wouldn't be  _his_ fault if a police officer asked him to leave, right? But he also had a feeling Fantasio wouldn't have just given up this easily.

 

So he refused to budge. ”Um, officer, this is going to sound crazy, but I actually  _do_ have this thing in me that makes me turn into a human flamethrower at times, and I sort of might be able to do something about this volcano problem. Although all of that about monster or supervillain made of fire was just something he made up and even if there was one it's not like I'd fight it and throwing fire at a thing made of fire would be dumb and I'm sounding crazy aren't I?”

 

The officer nodded.

 

”Phuh, just throw a fireball at something, show him,” Gaston told Prunelle.

 

”I don't know how to! I've just done it by accident!”

They were attracting a crowd by this point, and he could see more police officers too.

 

Prunelle was just about to give up and go back to the office, when Gaston tackled the officer, pushing him to the ground. ”Go! Go do the thing!”

 

”Rogntudju Gaston, that's assaulting a police officer! I am so sorry!”

 

”Go then! Go fight the dragon!”

 

”There's a _dragon_ now?! Stop making up stuff!”

But he turned around and started running towards the volcano.

 

The thing had seemingly pushed through the road, and he almost stumbled few times on the uneven surface. And when he reached the slope, it became apparent he wouldn't be able to just climb all the way to the top, it was too steep and smooth.

 

Luckily for him, he found a crack in the almost vertical stonewall, and slipped in.

 

It wasn't until he was deep inside the cave or a tunnel that he stopped to look back.

 

No one had followed him inside.

 

So, they had decided to let the madman just go throw himself into the volcano if he really wanted to?

 

Or maybe they were still trying to restrain Gaston.

The idiot.

 

But he'd have to make sure he'd get Gaston free, post his bail or something, afterwards.

 

Assuming they weren't all horribly killed in an eruption or a firestorm.

 

Or a dragon.

 

Deciding that continuing forward was the only option he had, Prunelle started walking deeper into the volcano.

 

He wasn't still feeling even warm, even though there were small fires burning on the walls, almost like they were put there to light his way.

 

And then he reached a huge room and stopped.

There was fire everywhere, in small recesses in the walls, and coming from things protruding from the floor that seemed like tiny replicas of the whole volcano.

 

And there were things moving, some kind of four-legged creatures-

 

Prunelle retreated back to the tunnel, deciding the smart thing to do was to think of his next move very carefully.

 

Something poked his back. ”Hey:”

 

Prunelle quickly turned around, startled.

 

And almost ended up barbecuing Gaston.

 

”Phuh, watch it!”

 

”Gaston? What are you doing here? And I can't control it! Don't sneak up on someone with uncontrollable superpowers unless you want your eyebrows, or more, burnt off!”

 

”I followed you. Decided to stick around, to see how you're doing. Also more police arrived and refused to listen to sense.” He noticed the shapes. ”Oh, you found monsters already. Well done.”

 

”I didn't really go looking for them. But-” There didn't seem to be any places to hide in the room or a chamber, but maybe he could sneak past them?

 

He cursed inwardly.

 

Somehow now that Gaston was there turning back or running away or just hiding there forever seemed less like an option.

 

”Stay here.” He stepped to the room. ”So, I guess I, I don't know, try to do something-”

 

Prunelle was pulled back.

 

”Wait!”

 

”What?”

 

”You can't just throw fire at them!” Gaston told him.

 

”Well, I was saying it was a bad idea! Although I was-”

 

”They are living beings!”

 

No. No he wasn't.

 

”They are some kind of demon-things! I don't think they're sentient!”

 

”Yeah, but now that I got a good look at them, they're sorta like dogs, right?”

 

”Gaston, no. You're not adopting one as a pet. Definitely not keeping it in the mail room!”

 

Gaston blinked. ”Huh. Actually, think what even one could do at the office!”

 

”I'm thinking about it right now. Which is why I'm definitely putting my foot down here. Which I should have done with the seagull, but at least that doesn't breath fire.”

 

He looked up. ”Rogntudju, I think they heard us.”

 

”Well that's completely your fault.” Gaston pushed Prunelle in front of him, effectively using him as a human shield. ”Don't hurt them.”

 

”Not actually what I'm afraid of.”

 

There were three vaguely canine looking monstrosities that were slowly walking towards them, as if unsure what the two humans were.

 

”Gaston, I'm not sure if you should touch me.” He was starting to feel the energy swirling within him again, and he was fairly certain at least his palms were quickly heating up.

 

”You're just slightly warm,” Gaston informed him. He peeked from behind the editor to get a look at the dogs. ”Those look sorta hotter, their manes are made of fire.”

 

He pushed Prunelle forward. ”Go on, talk to them, they look curious. Try to not look threatening.”

 

Prunelle wasn't exactly sure what he could possibly do to look threatening to the horse-sized dog that was on fire, but he tried to show he wasn't carrying any weapons by showing his palms.

 

The nearest dog stopped, opening it's mouth and growling a bit.

”It growled, Gaston, it growled!”

 

”I can hear it just fine. Try saying something soothing, keep your tone of voice calm.”

 

”Why don't you do it, instead of hiding behind me?” Prunelle hissed. ”Aren't _you_ the one who is supposed to be the animal-expert?”

 

”Don't be silly, they're on fire.”

 

He had a point, Prunelle supposed. So he tried to sound calm. ”Good doggy.”

 

The dog sniffed the air, blowing black smoke from it's nostrils.

But it lowered its huge head to get a better look at the human.

 

Carefully, Prunelle reached his hand towards its maw and patted its nose.

 

To his relief, when the creature pushed its head towards him, it wasn't to eat him. Rather, the way it rubbed its head on him was more affectionate than angry or hungry.

 

”See? You made a friend.”

 

”Ngggh,” was all Prunelle managed.

 

Suddenly there was a flash of light that filled the room.

 

”So, you have arrived! I should have guessed it was you!” a voice boomed in the chamber, driving Prunelle's new doggy-friends away.

A human form stepped into the view, regal in its flowing crimson cloak and kingly attire topped off by a crown that was on fire.

 

Which was very impressive, at least until he stopped in his tracks, almost making the crown fall off. He managed to catch it, but the small fire on it was extinguished.

 

Also the look on his face when he asked ”Wait, who are you?” was less regal and more baffled.

 

Prunelle waved. ” Léon Prunelle, the one hiding behind me is called Gaston. So, uh, this is your volcano, I take it?” 

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the dark-haired man with the pencil mustache seemed familiar somehow.

 

He stared. ”My volcano?” He seemed to gather himself, ”Ah, yes, you have walked right into the-”

 

Gaston spoke, still mostly behind Prunelle. ”I know who you are! You're Zantafio, right?”

 

”Well, it seems my _reputation precedes me-”_

 

_” You're Fantasio's cousin!” Gaston exclaimed. ”He asked my help for getting you a birthday-present once!”_

 

_ Zantafio looked confused. ”Uh, what?” _

 

_” The mug!”_

 

_” Um, yeah, it was the year he _ __ didn't  _ _ _ just get me a tie. Not that the mug was much better.” _

 

_” Well that's not my fault, Fantasio refused all my good suggestions!”_

 

_” Anyway-” Zantafio attempted, but was interrupted again, this time by Prunelle. _

 

_” Oh, yeah, I remember now! Fantasio has mentioned you. You're the cousin who threw his Superman doll on the roof when he was four.”_

 

_” Not on purpose! Also _ __ what _ _ _ !? That's not the most impressive villainous thing I have done! The thing with the inheritance? The plot to steal the mummified corpse of Lenin?” _

 

_” Doesn't ring a bell,” Prunelle told him. ”Sorry.”_

 

_” Also eww,” Gaston added. ”Why would you even want that?”_

 

_” I was the dictator of Palombia once!”_

 

_” The way Palombia has revolutions once a week, almost everyone has been the dictator of Palombia once,” Prunelle pointed out. ”But, uh, I'm sure it was very impressive.”_

 

_ Zantafio rubbed his temples. ”So, you're here to distract me from the actual threat, letting my cousin sneak-” _

 

_” Actually, Fantasio and Spirou are stuck on an airport somewhere.”_

 

_ Zantafio stared. ”You got to be kidding me. The one time I actually prepare for their meddling they decide to not actually show up?” _

 

_” It's not like they did it on purpose,” Prunelle pointed out. ”So, this is your volcano? It's very nice, as far as volcanoes go. But could you maybe take it somewhere else, if it's not too much trouble?”_

 

_ Zantafio ignored him. ”Anyway!” _

_ He pulled a small device from somewhere. ”You have walked straight into my trap! He pushed the button on it.  _

 

_ Nothing happened. _

 

_” Just wait for it, this was supposed to happen.”_

 

_ It took a while, but the three dogs appeared again, running from somewhere, apparently summoned by the device. _

_ Zantafio pointed at the two intruders. ”Destroy them!” _

 

_ The dogs looked confused.  _

_ One of them yawned. _

 

_” Come on, you are supposed to obey me!”_

 

_ One of the dogs walked to Prunelle and licked his face. The editor tried to push it away. ”What are these things anyway?” _

 

_” Guardians of this place, a species living in volcanoes apparently that the people who originally made this technology tamed. This thing,” he waved the device, ”Is supposed to control them. This and my get-up, that mimics the outfits they used.”_

 

_” Oh, so it's not just a fashion statement?” Prunelle asked. _

 

_” So, is anyone going to throw any fire around anytime soon?” Gaston asked._

 

_” Wait, what?” Zantafio looked confused._

 

_” Fantasio mailed some weird thing to Prunelle, he got firepowers now.”_

 

_” Hah!” Zantafio pulled a gun out. ”So, you are not as clueless as you seem. Give it to me!”_

 

_” Gaston!” Prunelle hissed. ”Look what you did, we were talking and everything was going just fine.” He turned to address Zantafio. ”Sorry, can't. I lost it, it might be it got absorbed into me.”_

 

_” No matter! This place should have devices to remove them from people.”_

 

_” Oh, great,” the editor told him. ”Just show us the way.”_

 

_” Um, what?”_

 

_” You have a way of getting this thing out of me, right?”_

 

_” Prunelle, what are you doing?”_

 

_” Gaston, I don't want this thing to begin with. We'll just give this to him, he'll be on his way and everything will be fine.”_

 

_” He is pointing a gun at us,” Gaston said. ”I don't think he's a good guy.”_

 

_” Rogntudjuu, you just _ __ want  _ _ _ to see some kind of superhero fight, don't you? And it's not a  _ __ real  _ _ _ gun.” _

_ He turned to Zantafio. ”I mean, we are very impressed by your big prank scheme you played on your cousin-” _

 

_” I'm not,” Gaston mumbled._

 

_ Prunelle ignored him. ”But don't you think this has gone a bit overboard?” _

 

_ Zantafio holstered his gun. ”To be honest, I didn't mean to pilot this thing here. This place is a kind of underground vehicle made of rock. It had enough power to move once, and it ended up here, probably because it was drawn to the thing Fantasio managed to send here.” _

 

_ He turned around. ”Come on, I'll show you the machinery in the control room.” _

 

_…_

 

_ Fantasio dashed in to the  _ __ Spirou  _ _ _ editorial offices.  _

_ Even after they had finally gotten on a plane, their troubles hadn't been over. _

 

_ The pilot had first refused to land afraid of the sudden volcano. _

 

_ And afterwards, when it had suddenly and violently sunken back in, he had been even more scared. _

_ Luckily some yelling from Fantasio (as well as the lack of fuel) had convinced him to land. _

 

But getting through the city after an event like this had been difficult, and he could only hope everyone was fine.

 

He opened the door.

 

And stopped, only able to stare.

 

”Ehm?”

 

That seemed to be the appropriate response to seeing Lebrac and Jef holding Zantafio down, while Prunelle tried to make him drink something.

 

”If you think I'm gonna-” Opening his mouth was a mistake, however, and Prunelle managed to pour at least some of the liquid in his mouth.

 

”It's just water! You need to drink, you were really dehydrated, especially after-”

 

He turned to look at the newcomer. ”Hi Fantasio. Maybe you can talk some sense to your cousin. Although he seems fine now.”

 

Gaston poked his head into the room. ”See? He's fine. Hi Fantasio.”

 

”Erm, what happened?” Fantasio noted Zantafio got an odd (rather terrified and greenish) look on his face upon seeing the office boy.

 

And when he pointed at Gaston with a ”That walking catastrophe happened!” Fantasio wasn't terribly surprised.

 

”Phuh, I just pushed _one_ button.”

 

”Hm, I told you to stay away from weird machinery, didn't I?” Prunelle asked. ”Anyway, we were inside the volcano, everything was going fine, until Gaston decided to start poking things he didn't understand. We barely got away in time.”

 

”So, that's when Zantafio got hurt?” He looked ill, Fantasio was starting to wonder whether he should call the police or an ambulance.

 

”No, actually. We got him to the office just fine, and Gaston sort of decided to let him sample his cooking.”

 

”Oh.”

 

A huge dog made of fire walked into the room.

 

”Oh,” Fantasio repeated, his ability to be surprised by anything anymore severely affected.

 

…

 

Prunelle summoned a tiny flame on the tip of his finger to light his pipe.

 

This thing certainly had its advantages now that he had learned to control it.

 

For the most part, there still was the occasional puff of smoke or flame that accidentally accompanied his 'rogntudjuus'.

 

But, as a whole, it was all working fine.

 

A pile of mail was dropped on his desk.

He looked at the fire-dog that sat down, looking at him expectantly.

 

”No, Fluffy, no, the _mail room._ ”

 

He sighed as the creature looked at him, confused.

”Maybe it's too much to ask from a dog...”

As a whole, they were very obedient, especially when it came to any orders from him, and apart from that one incident with the contracts, letting them stay at the office had turned out much better than he had hoped.

 

”Or, maybe it would help if you called it by its actual name,” Gaston noted. ”That's Sparky.”

 

”Oh.”

 

”Sparky is the one with the missing tooth and more sparks in its mane. Fluffy is, well, fluffier, and Spot is the one with no spots.”

 

”Uh, sure.”

 

”You should know, they're _your_ pets.”

 

”No, they aren't! They just decided to follow me around and not leave me alone.”

 

He really hoped he was imagining the sad look on Sparky's face.

 

Just in case he reached to pet its head.

”Good boy. Or girl. Good little hellbeast.”

 

The creature let out a satisfied growl.

 

Well, at least they were obedient.

 

And less likely to even set things on fire than Gaston was.

 

…

 

THERE'S A VOLCANO ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?? BUT IT'S A MAGICAL VOLCANO IT DOESN'T NEED TO BE REALISTIC I WIN HAHAH

 

 

 

 


End file.
